#some people call it soda water

[butchyena]

theyre discoursing on tiktok about flavored water by the way. in case anyone wanted to know if other sites could possibly have stupider discourse than this one

[writersdrug]

Bartender!Simon accidentally running into Waitress!Reader while she’s carrying a bunch of drinks for a table, causing them to spill all over herself 👉🏻👈🏻

Even more bonus points if she’s dressed in a white shirt, iykyk 👀

You're onto something here

Also, combining this with the ask about reader snooping through Simon's flat on the 3rd floor

Warnings: NSFW, slight humiliation, Simon goes from gentleman to having nasty nasty thoughts

It's a busy night - when mid-September rolls in, the nights get colder, and people gravitate towards the warm lighting of the bar through the street-front window. You still have a couple of hours left on your shift, which means Ghost still has a while, too.

He can't remember how many beers he's poured tonight. The noise of the shaker is drowned out by the buzz in his head. Mack wants another PBR. Table eleven still needs their shots and two Martinis. He's in the zone, pouring liquor and juices and bitters with practiced skill. He catches every word from the patrons at the bar - at least, every order. He mumbles out a quick "step back, please" when a gaggle of girls tries to stand near the end of the bar, waiting for their drinks. The bar is completely seated, people stuffing themselves between chairs to place their orders. Somon's got half a mind to tell them to clear out and get the fuck back, but he has to be civil. It won't be this hellish for too much longer - Price texted Simon that he'd be there in a bit to help.

Simon's more concerned about you: you're running around, delivering food and drink, bringing condiments and refilling waters - you're weaving between tables, maneuvering around bodies with a quick "sorry" or "scuse me"... you're at one table, and in the blink of an eye, you're at another. Simon sometimes doesn't realize you went into the kitchen until you're busting the door open with plates of food. You're covered in a light sheen of sweat, your usual chipper attitude dampened by the Friday night rush. Simon doesn't miss the way you scowl when you hear a table calling for you, when both of your hands are full.

You push yourself through the crowd of girls hovering by the end of the bar. You huff, grabbing a tray and some glasses. "Is it national 'Go to a Bar' day?" You mumble, squeezing behind Simon and heading to the free soda gun.

He barely makes an effort to reply. "Must be." He grunts, pulling several bottles from the shelves and setting them on the counter. He's snatching this and that - you fill your glasses with water, sliding behind him and grabbing the various drinks on the end of the back and stacking them on your tray.

A man elbowed his way between the patrons at the bar. "Can I get another DogFish IPA?" He says, sticking his glass across the bar.

Simon groans internally, but he keeps a stoic face. He quickly leans to his left and reaches for the glass - right as you were picking up your tray, now stacked with drinks. You stumble back, not expecting Simon to be so close to you, and bump into one of the girls that crowds by the bar's entrance.

Simon feels his stomach drop when he sees each of the glasses topple over. You're instantly drenched, alcohol splashing across your eyes, which you have squeezed shut from the onslaught of fluids. Your shirt is absolutely soaked; a few of the glasses fall to the ground and shatter upon impact, alerting the entire bar and making their heads turn to you - the man who handed Simon the glass is ogling at you shamelessly, and the girl you'd bumped into turns around with a simple oh…

You're frozen, eyes wide and your entire front soaking. Your white shirt is practically see-through, clinging to your skin and providing little coverage for your pink, lacy bra. You look mortified and on the verge of tears. Your panicked stare drifts to Simon - you think he's going to yell at you, or worse: give you the silent treatment for the rest of the night because he's too frustrated to speak.

Simon is trying to keep his own staring under wraps – your tits look absolutely tantalizing, hugged so tightly by your wet shirt – but he snaps out of his daze when he sees your teary eyes. He drops everything - you're the most important person in the room right now. He quickly takes the tray from you and sets it aside.

"Here-" he shoves a fresh rag into your hands. "Cover up with that." He says, taking you by your shoulders and leaning down to your level. "Third floor, there's a dresser on th' left side, second drawer has shirts. Go dry off 'n get a new shirt, I'll clean this up."

You're too stunned to cry. You're angry, embarrassed, frustrated... there's so much happening around you, so many eyes staring at your fuck-up, but Simon's eyes keep you from losing control of your emotions. He doesn’t seem angry or irate – he’s worried about you. Shouldn't you help him clean up? It's your mess after all. "But-"

"Hush. Go on, luv - you're practically see-through." He quickly turns you around and gently shoves you into the crowd, and you hurry away to the stairwell without protest, holding the rag close to your chest.

Simon sighs. The pub slowly starts to return to normal, though people aren't trying as hard to get their drinks. A sense of shame seems to hang around everyone’s heads, though there was only one party at fault, here. He stares daggers at the girls who are still hovering by the bar. The one you ran into is gawking back in fear - she knows she messed up.

"Get the fuck back." Simon seethes, storming over to the POS. They all scramble away and press against the wall, afraid he might start swinging at them. "Finish ya drinks and leave. 'M closin' your tab. You're done."

They dissipate back into the crowd, right as Soap pops his head out of the kitchen. "Heard a crash, ye alright?"

"Fuckin' wankers can't understand simple orders." Simon grumbles, grabbing a broom from the corner and sweeping up the glass. "Slag couldn't get her ass out th' fuckin walkway and made bird spill a tray."

"Christ, she ok?"

"Upstairs. Changin'. Shirt nearly disappeared when it got wet."

"Need me tae check up on-"

"Got a fuckin' kitchen t' run, don't ya?"

Johnny scoffs and disappears back into the kitchen. Simon continues sweeping - he spots Price jogging up to the building throught he street front window, and he sighs in relief.

Upstairs, you do just as Simon instructed. You're topless, your bra still a bit damp after you tried to towel-dry it with he rag Simon gave you. You're sifting through his drawer, face scrunched as you shuffle through and inspect each shirt. You're a bit miffed at how many plain, black t shirts he has - has he ever stepped foot into an Old Navy? - but, eventually, you hit the jackpot.

You pull a shirt from the very bottom of the drawer. It's army green, a bit worn over the years, with a bit of a natural, masculine musk clinging to it. The right front chest has a skull, a sword, and wings, along with the table "Task Force 141". On the back, in large letters: "LT. RILEY".

A smile creeps its way onto your face. He never said which shirt... he said any shirt. And this is the one you want.

Your bra comes off quicky, the fabric still wet and uncomfortable. You toss it somewhere on the bed behind you – you’re sure Simon wouldn’t mind if you hung it over the back of his chair, right? Can’t be wearing a wet bra while you’re running around the restaurant; you’d have a bra-shaped water stain on your shirt. Or, worse – you’d get sick. And you know for a fact (though he’s never said it to you) that Simon would kick himself if you got sick on the job.

You quickly pull the shirt on - it swallows you, both in size and scent. It smells just like him - the bodywash you catch a whiff of when you pass him, the slight muskiness that surrounds you when he reaches above you to grab something - it's all there, just tenfold. You stand up and pull it down; it covers your thighs down to your shorts, almost making it look like you weren’t wearing any to an unassuming person.

You take a peek around the room: it’s quite cozy, even with a lack of real décor. The bed sits against the middle of the wall, with Carolina blue sheets and a grey comforter. The pillows look rather worn, but there’s at least three of them. There’s a television on the dresser that faces the bed, and a small bookshelf in the corner next to an antique-looking chair, except the shelf is filled with mostly keepsakes and memorabilia. Any books in the room are stacked on the edges of the two bay windows, embedded in the brick wall that faces the street. The only lighting comes from three lamps: one on the nightstand by his bed, a taller one next to the clothes rack near the bathroom, and a lantern-looking lamp that he’s somehow attached next to the door.

Curiosity gets the better of you – discovering anything about Simon that he hasn’t already told you is like striking oil. You pad over to the shelf, leaning down to inspect the various objects. A balaclava, rolled up and tucked behind a box. In said box is a medal, bronze and dull, with a fist tightly holding a blazing torch. A worn-down pair of sunglasses lay next to a ring. A green stone sits on a silver band, nestled between two ivy vines. There’s a picture of the four of them: Simon, Johnny, Price, and even Kyle – you had assumed they had met Kyle through the restaurant industry, but there they all were. Dressed in military uniforms, holding guns and posing with stern faces in front of a helicopter. Simon was wearing a rather terrifying skull mask, the rest of him completely covered by his uniform. You were only able to recognize Simon from his brown eyes, but the man in the photo looked entirely different from the bartender downstairs.

Fuck! You completely forgot that you were a waitress, sniffing around your manager’s office when you should be tending to your tables. You turned on your heel and left Simon’s room, running down the stairs two at a time.

Simon was still in the eye of the storm – barely a word had been passed between him and Price, other than a simple hello when he had first hopped behind the bar. Simon was keeping an eye on your tables, which were currently satisfied for the time being – but damn, what was taking you so long? Were you showcasing all of his shirts? The thought of that would’ve had him biting his cheek to prevent a boner, but he was too busy to be anything but concerned for you.

On cue, you come bounding down the stairs, throwing yourself back into the busy crowd as you tie your server apron around your waist. Simon pours a tap, barely able to make out your form flitting through the crowd, making sure your tables are well-off and happy. Price calls your name over the din of the crowd, and you squeeze yourself through the mass of people to collect the drinks sitting on the end of the bar.

“Sorry!” you exclaim, setting your drinks on a tray. “Had to mop myself up a bit with the rag. Did anyone order anything from my tables?” you ask, looking at Simon.

He’s… occupied. His eyes are trained on your shirt. His shirt. That army green that brought up so many old memories, ones he hadn’t thought of in a long time,..

His shirt. Covering your body – and, fucking Christ, you’re not wearing a bra. You’re completely naked under that shirt.

You’re confused. He’s staring at you with such a shocked, glassy pair of eyes that you wonder if you’ve shot him in the leg. You look down at what he’s staring at – oh, right. The shirt. A part of you heats up in embarrassment, and a part in… something else. Yes, I took your shirt. I’ve got your name on my back. If he’s thoroughly upset by this, he’s not expressing it. And if you’re mistaken in the thought that he looks aroused (you wouldn’t be surprised to find him drooling behind the mask – you know how delicious you look right now), you’ll give him the shirt back eventually and pretend this never happened.

“Thanks for earlier.” You spoke over the noisy chatter around you. “This, uh- I hope it’s ok, it was the first shirt I saw.”

Bullshit. He knows he buried that thing deep in his drawer. He did it on purpose. “’S fine.” He mumbles, still dazed.

You glance at him as you carefully balance the tray on your hand. The printer is dealing ticket after ticket of drinks as Price enters them – the man looks at Simon with a frustrated, tight-lipped glare, working double-time to push orders through.

“I’ll be back to grab the rest.” You say quickly. You scurry off, careful to avoid slamming into anyone this time. Simon nearly has a heart attack when he sees his last name across your back. You might as well have his bite mark branded onto the side of your neck.

This opens up a nasty can of worms for him. He’s a goner – he’s thinking about chasing you around the bar, after hours, while all you’re wearing is his shirt; snatching you up and slamming you down on the bar, shoving his face in between your thighs; what you sound like when he pumps you with his fingers; pounding you against the wall in the office, hips crashing into yours as he growls and grunts in your ear, “wanna wear my fuckin’ name, baby? hmm? wanna make sure everyone in this fuckin’ pub knows you’re mine? I’ll gladly fuckin’ help you, fuckin’ tease-“; god, he needs you, he needs to know what you feel like wrapped around his dick, what you sound like when he’s reaching those spots, he needs your nails in his back and your palm smacking him across his face and your teeth on his neck-

“Simon!”

John’s- no, Captain Price’s voice shuts off the movie playing in his mind. He looks at him, barely recognizing the growing frustration in his eyes – Simon’s fighting his own demons right now, and he isn’t even sure if his Captain’s wrath can save him.

“Stop thinkin’ with your Pork Sword and get your arse back on bar.” Price barks – a few of the regulars laugh at that, and Simon realizes he’d had an audience.

He clears his throat and grabs a ticket, quickly reading it and grabbing a glass. He forces himself to let go of the fantasy – he’ll have all night to think about it once he closes. That, or he’ll be hating himself for even thinking of you in that way, especially when the situation wasn’t in your favor. For now, though, he’s got a job to do. He continues to pour and stir and shake drinks left and right, occasionally stealing glances at you, prancing around with his title.

He knows one thing’s for certain – your bra is still somewhere in his room.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hiii are you still writing for logan? if so maybe smth about logan x mutant!reader and she fell first but he fell harder

You had Logan by the balls and everyone could tell.

Logan didn’t care, he didn’t mind a bit that people could tell he’s head over ass in love with you. He really really is.

Ororo and Marie are currently watching the way you have him by the balls as you lay on one of the sofas in the living room.

“Take them off, Logan.” You whine, wiggling your feet in his face as he tries to get a hold of them.

“Stay still,” he grumbles as he catches your ankle.

“Day drinking was not a good idea for her.” Marie says to her and Ororo nods, unable to keep the smile off her face as you set your foot in Logan’s lap clumsily.

“He doesn’t even hesitate to do what she asks.” Ororo says in wonder, watching Logan be as gentle as if he’s with one of the kids as he helps off your shoes.

“Logan?” You call tiredly, rubbing your eyes and smudging your already messed up eyeliner and mascara.

“Yeah bub?” He moves your hand from your face and cups your cheek, thumb rubbing your cheek as he waits for you to speak again.

Marie holds her breath as she watches Logan pepper kisses to your jaw while you soak all the affection up.

“Do you think we could go and get food? I really wanna get some fries or maybe Chinese food.”

Logan laughs, kissing your chin as he nods. “Wanna come with me or do you wanna lay go down?” He massages the arches of your feet while he waits.

Marie’s whisked away by Remy and Ororo smiles as she walks off, glad that Logan doesn’t feel the need to hide so much now.

“Wanna go with you,” you lean up and kiss his lips sloppily. “Can I have a soda while we go?”

Logan helps you up, not letting your feet touch the floor making you squeal. “Nope.” He pops the ‘p.’ “You can drink water on the drive.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Headcanon that bludhaven hates heroes with a flaming passion bc theyre just cops in tights but love Nightwing and therefore vehemently deny his hero status to anyone and everyone.

Like there is no official Nightwing merch bc he’s a criminal he’s committing a crime okay vigilante justice is in fact not legal and he’s not TECHNICALLY on the justice league and he’s NOT TECHNICALLY the leader of the titans anymore. But there are about 400 different Etsy stores that make hoodies, crop tops, joggers, sweats, sunglasses, bracelets, t shirts with nightwings logo or some art of him on them.

Like they love this guy and will get into beef with any Gotham national who tries to claim Nightwing is THEIR hero.

1) hes not a hero he’s a criminal fuck you

2) you have a hero and just bc he’s shit at his job and needs our guy (who is NOT a hero) to help him sometimes doesn’t MEAN SHIT

people are walking around with tiny v shaped blue tattoos or embroidered on clothing but again NOT A HERO BLUDHAVEN DOESNT DO HEROS

There are coffee shops with bad nightwing pun names nightbird, beanwing, nightwinging it and so on

Every third piece of graffiti is this man’s logo

Every sandwich place or fast food chain has a ‘secret menu item’ that’s not actually secret bc everyone orders it and it’s just one of their normal items dyed blue (sodas, desserts, burger buns, condiments so on) some places will sell wings fried in blue panko bread crumbs and call them them ‘nightwings’ ofc these are ALL off the menu you can’t see these items and if you try to order them out of the city you get weird looks.

Superman goes on tv and says Nightwing is one of his favorite hero’s and bludhaven riots. wtf nightwing is your favorite hero you fuckin poser

1) nightwing isn’t a hero he’s a criminal so back off

2) he’s ours you and your frou frou fancy city that hasn’t been nuked by a sentient pile of radiation can fuck RIGHT off

Naturally the only person in bludhaven who is unaware of this is Dick Grayson bc tbh this man is too busy to give a fuck about what his city thinks of him. They trust him to get shit done. Good that’s all he needs okay he has 22 reports he needs to log he’s busy.

Tim Drake professional nightwing fanboy however is fucking furious about this because.

A) dick was a GOTHAM hero FIRST and bludhaven can suck it

B) fuck you nightwing isn’t just a a hero he’s THE HERO and the BEST hero and don’t be rude bc you have a complex

C) all of the cool nightwing merch only ships around bludhaven so has to get it ordered there and it’s just a hassle and he’d pay double he swears just let him get it delivered to where he is please Everytime he stops by bludhaven he leaves with 10 new pieces of nightwing merch and bc he has so much. Damian doesn’t think he notices when some of his doubles mysteriously go missing. He does.

D) since they are anti hero they are firmly unhelpful whenever he or Steph show up bc a case has lead them to the city

The one plus side was watching Jason Todd having a mental breakdown bc apparently in bludhaven redhood counts as a hero and is therefore hated.

“Yous worked with the bat yous a hero thems the rules”

“I KILL PEOPLE”

“Yeah so do cops and people always call them heroes”

“Okay but I kill people to protect the general public I put down scum”

“Cops say they do that too”

“I- okay you know what I’m a hero fine okay. Why isn’t nightwing a hero”

“Vigilante justice is a crime”

“I’m documentably worse than a vigilante”

“But you have worked with the bat”

“For money yeah”

“See you even get paid, face it you’re a hero which means you suck”

“You realize Nightwing has worked with the bat right like way more than I have”

“Listen that ain’t his fault okay, the bats incompetent and so are the rest to you idiots. He’s a nice guy and a good neighbor don’t mean he’s a hero”

“I- what the fuck is in this cities water”

“I don’t fuckin know but it’s prolly better than whatever gothams got in its harbor”

“I- yeah you’re probably right”

[genderqueerdykes]

this summer has been brutally hot. while you're trying to stay cool, please consider giving cups or bottles of water to any homeless people you see. i honestly don't care what your stance on homelessness is: just do it. if you've never had heat exhaustion or heat stroke, you have no idea how utterly miserable overheating is, and it gets worse when you're dehydrated. now consider how much worse it gets when you don't have a consistent source of shade to lower your body temperature. nobody "Deserves" heat exhaustion or heat stroke, leave your "they have to earn shelter" shit at the door. no one's listening.

i live in what's regarded as the worst part of town, dubbed "the war zone". i have countless homeless people walking by my apartment daily, and whenever i'm on the porch, I do my best to offer what I can. some folks turn me down for food, not every person who comes across my block needs narcan, but water is always gratefully accepted. please try to give water instead of sugary drinks if possible and avoid caffeine, as that is a diuretic and can cause people to dehydrate faster. if all you have is juice or soda, go ahead, but please give water when and where possible.

i have never had anyone get belligerent with me even despite the awful nickname this part of town has gained. if someone seems like they are in the middle of a psychotic episode (speaking to someone you can't see, irritable outbursts, confusion, reacting to cues you can't see, and so on) and are visibly agitated or angry, give them space and don't force them into anything. DO NOT CALL THE COPS ON THEM. don't call the cops on ANY homeless people. when a psychotic person is in the middle of an episode, what they are seeing, hearing and feeling are real to them, and can be perceived as life-threatening. sometimes someone in the middle of a psychotic episode cannot parse that you are not a threat, especially if they are in the middle of a particularly paranoid episode, which happens extremely easily when you have nowhere safe to rest your head at night. constantly having to watch over your own shoulder can easily lead to someone feeling constantly persecuted.

my neighbors have been handing out food, water, and cigarettes too, without any provocation from me. now that I've moved in, we have someone to hand out narcan, too. we can build a more compassionate world. if everyone on my block wordlessly helps the homeless folk who walk past without any provocation from someone else, the whole world can be this kind. i promise it can. you can possibly save a life just by reaching out. we all have the power to make a change for the better. a simple glass of water can literally save a life. your unsheltered neighbors are still your neighbors.

[servicpop]

nude beach adrien ( deliquent oc ) x ftm reader

ⓘ⠀reader has top surgery , use of cunt & pussy , fingering , public ( on beach )

Tans, seashells, crisp soda and icecream, perfect for a hot sunny day.

It was an idea pitched by one of your friends to hold a class beach day, and as the student president, you agreed and began to plan. The message you sent into the class group chat was bombarded with positive replies the moment you mentioned the word 'beach.' It seemed like alot of your classmates either wanted to escape studying or needed a break to cool off.

A familiar icon popped up underneath your message, Adrien's, but he didn't reply so you just guessed he would skip this event out too.

Stuffed in a car with all your friends, you allocated each friend to bring different things like drinks, food, beach balls and towels. You were in charge of packing the beach umbrellas and foldable chairs.

It was about a 3 hour trip to a beach nearby; one that wouldn't be bombarded with little children and an abundance of people.

When you got there with your friends — a little earlier than the set time — you took the initiative to start helping out with things and putting down your chairs and umbrellas. As you're hauling out the items from the trunk, you could faintly hear the raspy sound of someone calling out.

“Adrien, give me a hand here!” Your head instinctively turns to meet eyes with that stupid deliquent who seems to always show up wherever you are.

He was unusually early, perhaps earlier than you.

Adrien shoots you a toothy smirk before turning back to his buddy, helping the guy lift a cooler filled with sodas and probably beer as well. You shrug him off with a small scoff, rolling your eyes before going back to set up your things

You've successfully put up an umbrella and a deck chair away from the water, letting your body relax on the chair.

You weren't even planning on swimming today but you brought a shirt and some swim shorts just in case you wanted to just dip your feet into the icy water and feel the waves crash against your knees.

Staring out to the shore you watch as your friends run into the water, splashing and kicking sand up st eachother. You would join but, swimming wasn't something you particularly liked, especially the feeling of your wet swimsuit sticking to your skin.

“What are you doing all alone, prez?” His voice comes out smooth and almost tantalizing as a hand slides over your shoulder. You flinch harshly, whipping your head around to see Adrien in his full glory, shirt off, slightly damp hair and crystal clear water droplets gliding down the curves of his muscles.

Before you could say anything, Adrien pulls up another chair and slides it right beside you. The wooden bits of the deck chair clink together and he lowers himself on it with a small sigh of relief.

“The boys are playing like gladiators out there, felt like I was gonna die,” He laughs and you see his chest stutter as he does. He lets his head rest on his hand, elbow jutted out as he turns to face you.

“But really, why aren't you swimming? I'd love to see you shirtless and wet.” You roll your eyes and scoff, shaking your head as you stretch out your legs.

“I just don't feel like it,” You hum nonchalantly which earns a breathless laugh from Adrien. He places a hand on your stomach, inching closer to you. His fingers lightly drum on your stomach, earning that slight hollow sound.

He flicks your shirt up and burrows his hand underneath it, making a slow ascend to your chest, tracing over the raised lines underneath it.

“They're healed enough,” he points out, “Just let me see them.”

Your eyes quickly dart around, making sure that no one is watching. The beach stretches out quite far so the majority of the people were situated towards the middle with you and Adrien being in a more empty area.

You don't fight it, you just look away as he pulls up the shirt to your chin. The cool ocean breeze hits your bare chest, pulling out a view shivers from you. Adrien has seen your scars, multiple times but its always a surprise to see how his eyes soften and how he caresses them so delicately.

“Y'know people won't care if you just swim shirtless, you're a dude it doesn't matter,” He's leaning his head over to kiss your scars in which you push his face away. He laughs and moves his hands back down to rest on your lower stomach.

“You should get out of here before anyone sees you talking with me,” You manage to breathe out, moving your hand to his, attempting to pry them off your exposed skin. Being in such an open area with all your classmates undoubtedly gets you anxious, especially considering how long you've kept your relationship with Adrien a secret.

“Why? People can't handle me spending time with my boyfriend?” It just rolls off his tongue the way he claims you're his — even when you're not.

You're about to retaliate, about to shout whatever insult that comes to mind but you feel his hand move down to cup your crotch. Your body jerks at the touch and you shoot him a glare but he returns it with a sly smile.

“You're not my boyfriend,” you manage to force the words out your throat.

“Yeah but can any guy make you feel like this?” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts, pushing pressure onto your cunt. You can't help the curses that flow from your lips and the fact that you're arching your back into his hands.

“They don't know how to treat you right, only I can,” You can hear the jealousy drip off his tone like honey on a stick: thick and sickly sweet.

His fingers are brought back up and now he's pulling at your waistband, dipping his fingers underneath your shorts. His hand just glides over the smooth expanse of your pelvis, dipping down to your sweet, slick sex. Adrien starts by parting your folds with his index and his ring finger, skimming his middle over your fluttering hole.

You're so wet he can hear every movement his finger makes on you.

His thumb finds your clit, pushing the tip of it against that bundle of nerves. He's massaging circles on it, punching out a loud whine from your throat.

“Shit cutie, you're sensitive there?” He laughs, moving his hand lower so he could press his palm against it. Your little mewls and the way you grip onto the side of the chair so tightly makes Adrien want to rip your clothes off and fuck the daylights out of you, but he can't, he'll get caught almost instantly.

His fingers finally meet your hole, pushing in one finger slowly. You gasp, hips rolling up to grind your clit against his palm as he stuffs his finger into you. Adrien laughs again like he's having fun drawing all these reactions out of you.

Your warm, gummy walls hug his finger so snugly he has to slip in another one just to loosen you up a bit. He groans, driving his middle and ring finger into you. Everytime he pulls them back and slams them in your legs tremble and that obscene wet noise rings through his head like the aftermath of a drug.

“You like that prez? Such a good boy f'me aren't you?” Adrien bites his own, chapped lips, repeatedly ramming his fingers into you, watching as you laid your head back and let the moans spill out from your parted lips. The moment he starts curling his fingers up your body tenses and you absent-mindedly grab onto his forearm.

You're seeing stars with the way he's hitting your G-spot every single time he drives his fingers deeper into you.

“Fuck— ah– Adrien,” You cry out, moving your hand down to push down on his, encouraging him to put more pressure on your pussy. He gladly obliges, moving his fingers faster and pushing his palm against your clit with more force than before.

The familiar feeling of a knot wells up in the pit of your stomach and you know you're about to cum.

“C'mon, that's it.” Adrien can tell you're close from the quivering of your knees and the way sweat trickles down your forehead. He kisses the salt away before groaning as he feels his fingers get soaked from your orgasm.

He pumps his fingers slowly, letting you ride out your high before stopping completely.

“Shit, let me eat you out next tim—”

“Stop talking.”

doctors note ; hope i did alright for my first time writing for ftm reader T T

[artemis-pendragon]

Okay so I'm not in the hurricane evacuation zone by any means but I do live in a horrendously natural disaster-prone region SO!! Here are the best tips I've gotten for surviving in a disaster zone.

1) Write your name and your emergency contact's phone number in DARK PERMANENT INK somewhere visible on your skin (wrist is good) so if you're unconscious or dead emergency response can ID you and get in contact with your family/friends

2) If you have any particular medical needs or conditions write that too!! Specific medications + doses, warning signs and symptoms to watch for, etc

3) During the disaster, if your circumstances change or may change soon, record a new voicemail message explaining these changes so anyone who calls you knows your most recent status and location. Whatever details you think might help!

4) Stock up on Rx meds before pharmacies close. Get some OTC meds too and make a watertight and portable first aid kit. If you're gonna be in flood conditions and your Rx bottles aren't fully sealed, wrap the lids with duct tape to make a tight seal. If you've got tampons and pads in the house, stuff those babies in there! Good for everything from periods, to bloody noses and open wounds in an emergency! Plus they're super absorbent and can be used to temporarily block up small spaces and cracks

5) If there's no bottled water left in stores buy the biggest and cheapest bottles of soda you can, dump them out, and fill them with fresh water. If you have sinks and bathtubs that aren't expected to flood, fill those bad boys up with fresh water, too. Store as much water as you can!!

6) Put all important documents such as Social Security cards, birth certificates, marriage certificates, or anything else you want to save into waterproof bags. Ziplock baggies double sealed with duct tape along the closed seams are great! Double bag if needed!

7) Special cool new thing I learned about hurricanes that I'm probably the last dumbass on earth to know but just in case I'm not: even if a hurricane makes landfall as a Cat 3, if it was a Cat 5 over the ocean on approach it will bring in Cat 5 surge. Downgrading the wind speed doesn't downgrade the flood potential

8) TAKE THE BACKROADS OUT OF MAJOR CITIES OH MY GOD PLS DONT GET STUCK ON THE FREEWAYS IT'S HELL

9) Last but not least, if you can't afford to evacuate or don't have a place to stay, some people under videos and posts tagged with current natural disasters are offering temporary places to crash for those in affected areas for free!! I've seen multiple cases now of people offering up their guest rooms or couches to evacuees and their pets in the last week that have worked out ❤️

If anyone else has more tips, and more experience with this type of disaster specifically, please add on!! Love you all and hope everyone stays safe 💕

[temis-de-leon]

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Levi and Satan (x gn!reader, separately)

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

Main Masterlist

A/N: not very satisfied with this one, but I don't want to get stuck in writer's block forever. I will revisit this in the future to improve it, but, until then, I hope you enjoy it <3

.

Leviathan – He didn’t think he deserved you

Companionship from him was hard to earn; not due to pickiness, but rather fear.

Would you make fun of him when you discovered the things he liked? Would you call him a pathetic, sad excuse of a demon?

He wasn’t embarrassed about his passions, mind you; in fact, he was quite proud of them, but he knew an otaku like him wasn’t considered as attractive or interesting as others with more… normie preferences.

Take Asmo, who knew how to talk to people and profited from his appearance; or Beel, who knew how to keep his muscles; or Lucifer, whose presence was enough to call for everyone’s attention.

He couldn’t hold a candle to them, as much as the knowledge pained him, and he was sure you thought the same.

How else would you feel? You, a human suddenly lost in the Devildom with no way of surviving but proving your wit and your strength. You, who fought with tooth and nails to stand your ground and still acted with kindness towards him, paying attention to his rants, asking out of pure curiosity, keeping track of the passwords…

Falling for you came immediately after you became his best friend, but Levi couldn’t lie to himself.

There wasn’t a way in hell, heaven or earth where a possible reciprocation wasn’t fuelled by pity, no matter how much you tried to convince him otherwise.

He closed the door of his room again, keeping everyone out, hoping that if he couldn’t see your lovesick gaze anymore, then you’d find someone fitter and more deserving.

The thought pained him to no end, but really.

Levi couldn’t lie to himself.

His chest hurt, no wonder. The shape of his clothes was imprinted on his skin, sternum and ribs aching with each breath after hours of sleeping on the edge of the bathtub. He thought he’d also twisted his wrist for a moment, but the pain just came from the weight of his torso resting on top of it for who knows how long.

Levi slowly blinked as he started to wake up, a pool of drool drying next to where his head had previously been and his mouth completely dry in return, the taste of something stale and unsavoury covering his tongue.

There was a water bottle on one of the glass tables, his headphones and a half-full glass of soda, but his DDD was on the floor with his jacket. He saw a blanket there too and your scent reached him like a siren’s song.

Groaning at the rigidness of his muscles, quickly embarrassed once more of his unfit body, he pushed himself out of the bathtub and tried not to trip on the clutter around the room. Most things were his, obviously, but he also found some of your clothes and even a pair of shoes and your backpack, covered in custom pins he’d carefully designed just for you.

The image of his door closing and leaving you out of his life resurfaced in his brain. What else could it have been if not a nightmare? While he was perfectly aware you were way out of his league, Levi was also conscious about his sin and about how weak he was under its power. There was no way he would’ve survived seeing you with someone else, let alone after confessing your love to him.

Noticing your absence with a sudden wave of nausea, he wondered for a horrible second if he’d talked during his sleep and woken you up with nonsense and rejection, but there was no way you would’ve left him for that, right? You would’ve woken him up instead, offering words of comfort and reasoning.

Him knowing that fact was the main evidence of how ridiculous the nightmare was.

How could he ever forget dating you, if just for a few seconds after waking up in pure stupor? As though your mere presence in his life didn’t change him; could he ever fool himself into thinking he could go on without the chance of being with you? His dream self may have been idiotic enough to believe so, but he knew better.

Levi would never let you go.

.

Satan – He didn’t realise how deep he’d fallen

He wouldn’t describe himself as superficial.

Feeling wasn’t a foreign experience; hell, he was doomed to feel, but there was so much he could understand about emotions.

Why did there have to be so many layers?

Asmo fawned over himself, rejoicing in who he was, yet he couldn’t bring himself to show how deep his mind and heart could reach.

Diavolo, so prepared for political business, yet so unsure at matters of the heart, abandoned and lonely.

You, so obviously afraid of your new surroundings, yet unwilling to bend your knee and show weakness.

Himself, falling for you slowly without either of you realising. He cared for you with what he knew was fondness, respect and appreciation. After all, given everything you’d done for him and his family, there was no other way he could look at you.

You confessed to him one day out of the blue, hope in your eyes, and his heart skipped a bit; but what if that flutter wasn’t enough? What if he was reaching too far, anticipating a chapter that would never be written?

Over time, the warmth in his chest turned bitter and electric, not stimulating anymore, but painful.

Yet, he smiled at you.

How confusing.

What a stupid mistake he had made.

You weren’t with him when he opened his eyes, which only fuelled the anger his dream had caused. Frustration at the cycle, always returning to the comfort of his sin, and fear upon your absence.

The swaying towers of books covered the window and cast shadows where they weren’t supposed to be, taunting him with the presence of someone else just as he was coming to terms with the lack of your company. His stretched arm, searching for your touch, slowly returned to him and pulled him deeper under the covers.

He still felt the goodnight kiss you had given him hours ago lingering on his lips, but it wasn’t that what helped settle his uncontrolled mind.

No.

Satan didn’t need reflection to know how much his soul yearned for yours. Although intimidated by the intensity of it, he wasn’t afraid to show just how much he loved you. Also, he would be caught dead before rejecting an idea due to a lack of perspective. Exploring your relationship had been his favourite subject by far, after all.

He knew that, had his rejection been real, his dreams would’ve been filled with the never-ending hope in your eyes and his willingness for more instead.

What he had with you in what he knew was the undeniable reality, was what he would always want in any other.

He may not understand the strength of your love and all that came in between, but wasn’t that what made it all that exciting?

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion

[emmyrosee]

How about a little something of Samu doing a shirtless car wash 👀

OOOOOOOO 👀👀👀

———

For the nth time that hour, you peek out the window of your house to watch Osamu be, once again, the most handsome creature to walk the face of the earth.

It’s hot outside, so hot you can’t help but fan yourself with your hands or random pieces of paper around the house. The ac broke, leaving you shrouded in heat and Osamu to entertain himself with the hose as he polishes and washes your cars, your new clean car glimmering in the sun and the dirt rinsing off of his and onto the ground below.

His hat is turned backwards, and you know it’ll give him a ridiculous tan line but you’ll somehow find it beyond attractive regardless, and his shorts sit low on his hips, revealing the dips of his hips and abs that rest happily amongst a small bit of tummy pudge you love to bite.

Water glimmers on his chest, and you sink your teeth in your lip as he turns to face you, a smirk curling on his cheeks and a wink from his grey eyes. You’re snapped out of your daze however when he sprays the hose at the window, and you squeal and duck away out of instinct.

“You wanna help me?” He calls to you, and you giggle and shake your head.

“Just enjoying the show!” You call back. He laughs and shakes his own head, going back to washing his car, muscles shifting and bulging as he moves. You grab a can of soda from the fridge and make your way outside, and he groans gratefully.

“You’re literally the love of my life,” he pants, grabbing the can and rolling it along his neck, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he sighs in relief. A finger then flicks the tab of the soda open, and he takes more than a few grateful sips- your eyes fixate on the bobbing of his adams apple.

In your staring, you can’t help but shriek as a splash of cold water covers your body, soaking your clothes and sending straight shivers down your spine. It would feel awful had you not been overheating just moments ago. “Osamu!” You squeal, and he chuckles.

“What’re you starin’ at?” He teases.

“You. Always,” you assure. He smiles and tosses an arm around you, his body warm from the sun and you burrow into his side. “You know… maybe we should do a shirtless carwash for onigiri miya- bring in some business.”

He snickers, “you want that many people seeing me shirtless?”

You pause. He looks down at you and you look up at him.

“Never mind.”

“That’s what I thought.”

[evie-sturns]

tummy ache - Chris Sturniolo

summary: your boyfriend chris is typically clingy as it is, but when he comes down with a stomach ache and a fever he can't keep himself off of you.

contains: nsfw, oral (male receiving), flufff, sub!chris, swearing, clingy!chris

----------------------------------------------------------

chris and i have been dating for over a year, he's always by my side when we're at home, and like today when we go out.

the blaring music echos through the mall, chris sits down on one of the couches as i sort through various bags i've picked up today, chris hasn't let me pay for any of them.

"um-" chris clears his throat, i look over at him with a small smile,

"i think we need to go home." he whispers with a small crack in his voice, my eyebrows twist,

"oh- no thats fine yeah." i nod, "you okay?" i follow up.

"my stomach hurts." chris mumbles, i stand up with the several bags in my hands and heave him up off the couch.

"aw chris, i'm sorry." i say, grabbing his cold hand and guiding him through the countless people near the exit to the mall.

he goes silent, something that rarely happens meaning something off.

i squeeze his hand lightly and look up at him with a small 'are you okay' look on my face, he shakes his head with a light sigh.

"we'll get you home chris, car is parked just over there!" i smile, stepping out into the parking lot.

i almost drag him over to the car, i swing open the door for him and help him into the passenger seat before walking round the front of the car and jumping in myself, i set the bags down by my feet before looking over at chris.

he just shrugs with a small pout,

"you think your stomach hurts 'cause you had too much soda?" i joke softly, earning a weak laugh from his soft lips.

i press a kiss to his cheek before starting up the car, "you want some music?" i ask before pulling out of our parking spot.

"oh- yeah thank you." chris says quietly before connecting his bluetooth to the car.

--

we pull into the driveway after a short drive, i turn off the car and chris hops out.

i jump out with him and reconnect our hands and walk with him up to the front door, he rubs his eyes as i rummage through my purse for the keys.

i click open the door and step inside,

"you wanna go grab some water and i'll set up the couch for you?" i ask, chris nods eagerly

"yes please, thank you." chris smiles before walking over to the fridge,

"chris-" i call out, "no- no pepsi thats not gonna make you feel better."

"mmgh it always makes me feel better though." he whines, i shake my head,

"water bottles are bottom right" i smile before jogging into the living room, the cool breeze from the air conditioning hits my skin.

i tug a blanket out of the small basket in the corner of the living room before throwing it onto the couch, i walk back into the kitchen and grab a small clear bowl,

"are you feeling throw up sick, or just sore stomach?" i ask,

"i- i dont really know." he wipes his forehead,

"better safe then sorry!" i shrug before trotting back into the living room and flopping down on the plush of the couch.

chris walks into the living room, wearing baggy jeans and a black shirt, his cheeks red and small droplets of sweat on his forehead.

he undoes his belt, leaving him in his loose boxers before he flops down on the couch.

his heavy body is halfway on me as he buries his face into my chest.

i press the back of my hand to his forehead,

"oh sweetheart, you're 'fuckin burning alive." i laugh with a sad smile,

he groans in response,

"c'mon, have a sip of water for me." i whisper, he holds the plastic bottle up to his raw lips and downs a good quarter of it.

chris flops back down onto me, i play with his hair while his head presses on my torso.

suddenly he lets out a crunchy cough, "jesus-" he mutters,

"god- you really are getting sick," i laugh, chris nods as he relaxes into my body.

"i think i'm dying" chris says dramatically, "i think you are okay chris"

"can i do anything else to make you feel better?" i ask, running my hands through his long floppy hair, he hesitates for a moment before opening his mouth,

"just some mind blowing head maybe.." he grumbles, i shake my head with a small scoff

"i mean something serious christopher." i reply,

"i am serious!" he protests.

he looks up at me from his position on my chest with his blue doe eyes, "please?"

i sit up, chris follows and sits up off me as well

i get up off the couch with a small giggle, chris manspreads with a stupid smirk.

i drop to my knees between his legs and rest my fingers on his thighs,

"please..?" he whispers slightly, i reach my hands up to the waistband of his boxers and tug them down teasingly, just enough to reveal his base.

"tell me what you need." i say calmly, chris lets out a needy whine, his leg bobbing up and down on the spot, "please." chris breathes out again.

i tug his boxers down to his mid thighs, his throbbing erection springs out.

i lean foward, wrapping my lips around chris's tip, a soft moan exits his mouth as he gently tangles his fingers into my hair.

i swirl my tongue around his red tip before taking more of him further down my throat, earning a small gag from me.

"close-" chris warns, bucking his hips up, forcing him further down my throat as his hands grip my hair tighter. i pull off his cock for a second to catch a needed breath,

"oh god-" chris protests as his cheeks flush, small droplets of sweat gathering on his forehead, he runs his hand though my hair. i wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, "i know baby." i say, quickly wrapping my mouth around him again as i scratch his thighs with my nails.

i bob my head up and down quicker, chris's whimpers filling the room.

i look up at him with squinted eyes, he squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting his cock deeper into my mouth.

i can see his breathing intensifying before he releases in my mouth, i pull off of him.

"you don't have to swallow that-" he says, placing a hand under my mouth.

i spit it out into his large hand, "you might need to drink more water" i laugh, chris lets out a small giggle,

"i knowww..." he groans, wiping his eyes.

chris wipes his hand on one of the tissues next to the couch before tugging his boxers back up.

i stand up and flop down on chris's lap, straddling him slightly.

chris coughs into his elbow,

"if you get me sick i'll-" i start, but i'm cut off by a crispy cough in my mouth from chris,

"oh my god chris! you're disgusting for that!" i say turning my head away from him with a grin,

"you just sucked my dick its not that gross..."

----------------------------

@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover r r @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @chrisgetsmewetterxo @mattsonly @justalittle47 @mattsturnioloisbae@sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @pkfferoo @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom m @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

[cyber333angel]

LUMBERJACK!LOGAN X FARMERSDAUGHTER!READER

the two of you would have met for the first time at your fathers house, logan introducing himself as a the new supplier for wood at your families barn. your dad was too busy to go out and buy wood so on a stroll through town he heard about a newcomer being good at exactly that. he shook your hand and he smiled at you, the most charming smile you have ever seen and you introduced yourself shyly as well. you were a little nervous for some reason, probably because you don’t see a lot of people living in the countryside especially handsome ones like this. you go off doing something else and after a couple more minutes of conversation your father calls you back to him and logan, telling you that you needed to show him around and tell him where to drop off the wood when it’s time for deliveries. smiling through your anxiety, you go up to him, “this way mr. howlett, uh this is the-“ and your cut off suddenly, “you can call me logan. no need for the formality.” and you nod, him dropping the professionalism made you feel a little more at ease. “oh alright logan, this way here is the horses stables.” chuckling at your insinuation of his name he watches you as you walk in front of him, white dress swaying side to side as you go farther throughout the land. the whole get-up looks gorgeous on you from head to toe, your little cowgirl hat that covers your braided plaits, the snug dress that hugs your curves and the brown cowboy shows to complete. from this first meeting he knew it was gonna be hard to work for your father, already looking at his daughter this way.

after a few weeks go by your aquatinted with logan, not exactly friends but you had small conversations everytime he came by. watching him as he loaded logs of wood into this shed looking handsome as ever working out like that, your little schoolgirl crush getting bigger at every sneaking glance you took. and one day your father had some business to attend to out of town leaving you alone, telling you to handle all deliveries and duties around the barn without him. so you spend all day taking over the work your dad usually does when you get a call, your dad telling you that logan would be coming in with a late delivery and to help him unload his truck. you were gonna be alone with logan, in your house that was empty, your mind was filled with thoughts but you quickly shooed them away. which was best because logan arrived at the gates thirty minutes later pulling into the driveway with a wave and the same charming smile as always, stepping out of the car in some red flannel and jeans. “hey kid, I see your stepping up to your old man’s jobs now huh?” he says chuckling and you smile walking to the back of his trunk, “yeah for today, ill leave it to you guys to carry pounds of wood every friday afternoon. splinters are not really my forte.” and logan grins, for the past couple of weeks of seeing glances of you during deliveries you weren’t doing manual labor like your father, mostly tending to the garden and taking care of the animals and he thought that naturalistic side of you was absolutely adorable.

you guys make usual small talk while hauling the logs of wood to the shed, dusting your hands. you get an idea to invite logan in after all this hard work, it’s only fair after all the heavy lifting and you both could use something to rejuvenate you. “um if your not busy after this would you want something to drink or eat before you hit the road?” you say, your anxiety creeping up a bit after doing something your not used to like inviting a someone into your home, one you have a crush on at that. logan nods rolling up his sleeves, “yeah thanks I would love a drink.” he says and you lead the way to the house, setting down at the kitchen. “umm we have some soda, water or juice? food wise we have leftovers from dinner yesterday, we could also make a sandwich or have the snacks in the pantry.” none of those really suite logans interest which makes him ask, “you got any beer?” and you think, remembering your dad keeps beer at the lowest part of the fridge, you grab one for him and you, going back and sitting at the island. “thanks kid.” making you smile with a quiet “no problem.” you watch logan crack open the beer with his teeth looking like he did this a million times before and you twist open the bottle with your hand, opting out on breaking your teeth.

the silence between you was very awkward as you trail your eyes at everything around you except logan, suddenly hearing him speak. “you don’t drink?” you look at him confused, his eyes pointing to the beer bottle that only has a sip taken from it. “no not really, it’s more for my dad. the taste is kind bitter to me, but i couldn’t let you drink alone!” you say with a giggle making logan smile as he takes another long swig at his drink. “well thanks for sticking around anyway. i also gotta ask how is it living on a barn miles away from civilization?” logan says poking fun at you once again, “it’s not that far, and it’s nice. very peaceful..although it’s too peaceful sometimes, there’s not many people to talk too out here other than when we go to sell crops.” he thinks for a moment, looking lost in thought as he comes up with a question that almost make you cough out loud. “so I take it that you don’t talk to many boys then huh?”the snarky question making you stare at him in awe, stuttering out an answer. “I have before if you must know, it didn’t go anywhere because he moved away.. but you already know I don’t talk to a lot of people which is s’kind of embarrassing, not having a relationship or a first kiss.. you probably have experienced all that already.” you say the relationship and kiss part quietly, not knowing why you said that in the first place thinking that sip of beer earlier had you out of sorts already.

the news of you not having any relationship was quite surprising to logan, you are such a pretty girl he thought guys would be lining up to date you. “it’s not embarrassing so don’t worry your head about that and sure I’ve had my share of..relationships but it’s nothing special as people make it out to be. if you want I can even help you with your little problem.” he hears himself get carried away with that last sentence, the damage being undoable as you try to think of he really said that. the older man that works for your father, really just said that? “really? you would kiss me?” of course he would kiss you, it’s taking a lot from him to not pounce on you right then and there. and logan just nods, scooting his chair back so you have space to sit. “yeah, come sit. it’s just a kiss.” he says patting at his lap with the beer bottle still in his hand, you hesitate but climb onto the seat making yourself comfortable on his legs. placing one of your arms around his neck for balance, waiting for his next move. “calm down bub your hearts practically beating out your chest.” he says chuckling and you just softly smile, embarrassed he can hear how nervous you are. “ready? don’t be so nervous, y’re okay, doing just fine already baby.” he says that as if that could make you any calmer, sliding his hand on your waist to make you come closer. you’re breathing so hard you could hear the breaths, closing your eyes trying to copy what the girls do in the romance movies you used to watch, and you feel your lips touch his. soft with a faint smell of beer, a very gentle kiss with his rough hand holding the side of your jaw.

you think to yourself how much more you crave from him, not only wanting his lips but it’s too late. he pulls away from the kiss to see you, looking around in your eyes to see if he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed it a little more than he should have. “lemme have a look at ya, how was it bub? hmm, was it good?” you chew the inside of your mouth staring at him, your chest heaving up and down as you try to come up with a way to ask for more. “it was great..” you say dropping your head to his chest, “would you be mad if I wanted t’do it again?” you say quietly, waiting for a response only hoping he wants it as bad as you, and he does, he wants even more than what your thinking of. your jaw is picked up by his hands as logan rests it on your cheek, looking at you so softly. “kid i could would never be mad at you, especially about something like that c’mere.” he says smiling into the kiss, this time going in deeper, sucking on your lips as if he wanted to eat you. beneath you, you feel something hard rising against your heat, pushing through logans jeans and up into your dress. you rub your thighs together trying to relief yourself from the throbbing sensation in your cunt from all this kissing but it doesn’t work, all your commotion alerting logan. “what happened down here bub?” he says rubbing his hand up and down your thighs, getting needier by the minute ypu snap and take logans hand, spreading your legs open and holding it in between your legs. “I need you to touch me lo..” you whine, a newfound nickname you gave him, probably resulting from how needy you were. this was all you needed to say to set him off, the position you were sat in, the pleading eyes and that goddamn sentence just now. he lifts you up wrapping your legs around his waist as he basically ravishes at your lips, growling at you through the kiss walking out the kitchen. “where’s your room?” he says looking like he’s on a mission and your bust out in giggles pointing him up the stairs to your room. you get you your bedroom and logan places you on the bed, you watch him as he takes off his shirt, still kissing you and traveling down all over your body. sucking and biting at your lips he spreads your legs in front of him, grabbing your underwear from underneath your dress and sliding it down your legs making you shiver. “I have to stretch you out a bit alright bub? come sit here.” he says motioning to you for the spot in between his legs, doing as your told you make yourself comfortable, not ever having done this before you let logan guide the way. he rests his hand on your waist, sitting behind you kissing your neck as his other hand travels down your pussy, his rough fingers coated in your slick just from the slight touch. “you really needed my help huh needy girl..” he says whispering, taking two fingers and spreading apart your folds looking at how wet you were. he pushes two digits in and you wince, his thick fingers already feeling so good you can’t even imagine how it would feel when he actually fucks you.

logan keeps thrusts his fingers in and out your cunt as you squirm around in his lap, stimulation sending you over the edge especially with the sweet whispers logan says in your ear. “atta girl, your swallowing up my fingers good bub..” praising you as you whine in his lap grabbing at his neck behind you, “s’enough now logan.. gon-gonna cum!” you say with a sob, you could feel how deep his fingers were stretching you, you could feel his thumb circling around your clit and you could only take so much. “good girl cum on my fingers..” and you do just that, coating his two digits with your mess, leaving a white ring at the base of his fingers. he has you out of breath, your head resting on his chest as you come down from the intensity. logan keeps you close to him, swaying a little back and forth letting you collect yourself, planting kisses on your neck as he slowly removes your white dress. taking the straps off and unzipping it, “up.” he says, wanting you to lift your arms and you do tiredly, you get up from his lap and lay down on your bed staring at logan. you watch as he unbuckles his pants, a bulge prodding and stretching the fabric of his boxers. “we’re gonna take it slow alright, if we go too fast you’ll get hurt so let me take care of you baby..” he’s says to you but you can barely hear, focused on his dick that is now out of his boxers standing tall, wondering if you were too confident and if you can even take all of him. he moves both your legs to be spread out on sides of his body, positioning himself in front of your cunt. “you ready?” logan asks you and you nod, earning a disapproving head shake from logan. “words bub, c’mon.” he says again tapping at your cheek, “yes m’ready logan!” you say, a certain huffiness in your tone just waiting for him to put it in. he pushes the tip of his cock in, already feeling a huge difference from his just his fingers, grunting above you. “fuck baby..so fuckin tight for me..” you can only sob in response, scratching at his back trying to brace yourself for taking in all his length. “hngh it’s s’really big lo!” you say, your body rocking against the bed as he thrust into you, slow strokes into your wet cunt making you feel every inch. “taking me so good sweet girl, so fuckin good..” he says kissing at your neck, being ever so gentle with you as he plows himself into your pussy, your messy cunt being heard all over the room. you feel a tremble in your tummy, the same feeling you got when you were stuffed with logans fingers just a few moments before. grasping at his back you look up at him with needy eyes, the older man locks eyes with you and it’s like he can read your mind. reaching his hand down to your achey cunt and rubbing your clit, he has you quivering under him with your legs shaking. “yeah you gonna cum for me baby hm?”

nodding at him suddenly you let out a gasp, feeling logan press down on your stomach as he’s fully deep inside you, the print of his dick showing in the pudge of your tummy. it makes you whine even more from all the pressure, closing your quivering legs in on his waist from the stimulation and the intense pressure as he snickers above you, “feels good huh bubba..” you cry when he hits that deep spot in you, your hands rushing to his abdomen trying to make him slow down. “w-wait logan please! that’s too much!” and he just smiles down at you, “move your hands, look your already taking me so well..your okay baby c’mon.” he says as you take your arms away hesitantly, the tears in your eyes rolling off your cheek onto the bed. “good girl, see?” taking one of his hands and grabbing the both of yours placing it at the top of your head making it harder for you to squirm, pounding into you as you begin to climax. “m’cumming logan..!” you slur out, unconsciously squeezing around logans length, “fuck me too baby.. give it to me c’mon.” he says wincing, loud squelches echoing in the room as you both cum together, hearing him growl above you feel him filling your hole, grunting as he makes sure you take all of it. you lay there on the bed catching your breath as you come down from your high, logan comes into your view holding your cheek in his hand rubbing it, “did so for me good pretty girl, you wanna get cleaned up?” and you nod your head tiredly, “mm yes please but can you do it for me lo..” you say, eyes already shutting down on you making logan smile, “sure kid.” he says picking you up, walking to the bathroom with you in his arms wondering how the hell is he gonna show up for work with your dad next week.

[55sturn]

✮ SOME TYPE OF WAY

pairing: biker!matt sturniolo x good girl fem!reader

synopsis: y/n takes matt up on the offer he proposes after they meet at a party, their tension thicker than their resolve.

warnings: swearing, reckless driving [ matt’s a thrill seeker / adrenaline junkie ], sexual tension, 18+, sexual content [ groping over and underneath the clothes ], making out, choking, spit swapping, open ending.

THIRD PERSON POV

y/n has always been a very organized person, every move she made was calculated and meticulous, not leaving enough room for error or her anxiety to spiral up a storm. some would lean toward calling her uptight, but she would let it roll off her back like water because she found a way for everything in her life to fall in line smoothly without many problems arising.

her best friend, jess, has always been the exact opposite of her. she was chaotic and messy, always running late, often being caught in compromising situations and relying on y/n to bail her out. the two were on the opposites of the personality spectrum, and people would screw their faces up at the sight of the two, but they paid no mind because their bond worked.

jess always joked about breaking y/n, turning into the opposite of her but y/n was stubborn, finding the utmost comfort in the way she lived. she didn't see the appeal of chaos and living without restriction.

but her class load had grown rather heavy, and she felt her impulse control weakening the more jess mentioned this massive influencer party that she had garnered invites for through multiple connections, and jess wasn’t backing down.

“fine. i think it’s time i take a break anyway, jess.”

“wait? are you for real right now?” jess exclaimed, shocked that for once in their friendship, she wasn’t going to a party alone.

WE ONLY MET EACH OTHER JUST THE OTHER DAY

as y/n followed jess through the crowd of people, she felt an overwhelming swarm of different and conflicting emotions, part of her wanted to turn around and walk back to her apartment, while the other part wanted to stick it out, figuring it couldn’t be as bad as she psyched herself out to believe, especially if jess, who was known for being blunt and outspoken if someone was overwhelming, could tolerate it.

y/n felt out of place, clad in a baby pink pleather mini skirt, and a matching pink long sleeve raglan baby tee, both courtesy of jess, and a pair of pink platform converse. she quickly trailed behind her best friend, who seemed to know her way around the house, more so mansion, they were partying at, heading toward the kitchen.

“so what are you wanting to drink?” jess hums, gesturing the otherworldly amounts of alcohol littering the large island in the kitchen.

“just pick something and make a drink for me.” y/n replies, turning back to face the crowd of people, watching as couples and people nearly fucked each other on various surfaces among the house. as her gaze kept flitting about the crowd of people, she briefly met the eyes of some guy across the room.

she felt her cheeks began to warm as he flashed her a lopsided smirk, his blue eyes boring into hers beneath the mop of shaggy brown hair. she returns his smirk, but hers is much gentler before turning back to jess, taking the red solo cup, staring at the dark liquid swirling in it. y/n cautiously takes a sip, while she trusts jess not to fuck her over and get her obnoxiously drunk, she’s still wary of the alcohol mixed with soda in her cup, she’s only been drunk a handful of times.

she swallows the dark drink, the taste of vodka mixed with the sweet, almost foamy taste of root beer filling her mouth, causing her to salivate ever so slightly as she takes another gracious sip.

“thank you for not giving me something other than vodka.” she laughs, watching as jess grabs two more solo cups, pouring two hefty shots of vodka into them, quickly handing one to y/n, who clinks her plastic cup against jess’ before quickly downing the shot, followed by a large gulp of her drink.

the two slowly make their way out of the kitchen, dancing with each other before beginning to talk and mingle with the rest of the people. y/n was shocked at how easily she fit into the world of influencers and content creators. as she made her way toward the deck, she felt eyes watching her, brushing it off she exited the stuffy house, finding solace in the cool april air clinging to her skin as she leaned against the railing of the wrap-around porch.

as proud as she was of herself for stepping away from her studies for a night, she still needed a moment of peace, or even just a moment alone.

but her tranquility was interrupted by the sliding door opening and shutting softly, she turned to head back inside but she was met with the same blue eyes she held contact with prior.

“hey.” he nods, pulling a cigarette from the pack that sat in his back pocket, grabbing a black and silver zippo lighter, flicking it quickly.

“hi.”

“so what’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a place like this?” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, the dingy light from the fairy lights lining the roof catching his tattoos, completely enamouring y/n as she watched his arm flex and relax, the muscle tee he wore showing off his lean arms. at first glance, you wouldn’t expect him to have any muscle but as he moved his arm, y/n was thoroughly impressed.

“my friend dragged me here. what about you?” she replies, resting her tailbone against the railing as he smirks, his head cocked to the side as his eyes flick across her features.

“what’d’ya mean?”

“just that you don’t seem like the party either, very quiet.”

“and how do you know that, sweetheart?”

“well seeing as i came out here because it’s overwhelming in there, and you did the same, and we’re the only two people out here, i’m assuming you came out here for the same reason.” she laughs, taking a sip of her drink, holding his curious stare over the rim of the flimsy cup, not once dropping his intense gaze.

“what if i just wanted to get you alone?” he teases, watching as she rolls her eyes, laughing to himself.

“then you’d be a total creep. i don’t even know your name.” she laughs, shocking herself at how easily she warmed up to him.

“it’s matt.”

“you look like a matt.” she hums placing her empty cup on the railing beside before pushing herself up, sitting along the wide railing, her legs dangling slightly as matt puffs on his cigarette, flicking the ashes on the grass below.

“what about you? you got a name or am i gonna have to keep calling you sweetheart?”

“y/n.” she whispers, her face warming at the nickname falling from his lips, she normally wasn’t one for slightly condescending pet names, but it sounded so sickly and sinfully sweet coming from the stranger beside her.

“that suits you, a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” he muses, watching as she turns her head away from in a futile attempt to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“your tattoos are really pretty.”

“you think so?” he hums, shifting closer to her to let her see them, watching as her eyes shift from each intricate piece, marvelling at the dark ink contrasting against his ivory skin.

“what’s your favourite one?”

“probably cerberus or the owl. what about you? you got any?” he asks, genuinely curious to know more about the girl beside him, wondering if there was more to the soft and timid appearance.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, crossing her legs, causing her skirt to ride up the tiniest bit, showing the smallest amount of ink on the side of her thigh, smirking as matt’s eyes shamelessly drifted to the exposed skin.

the two keep talking and getting to know one another, even going as far as to get each other’s numbers, the tension growing thick between the two until jess stumbles through the door, violently drunk as she babbles away about some guy she wanted to leave with.

“if she wants to go with him, i can give you a ride home on my bike.”

“we took an uber, so i’ll just order another one but i appreciate the offer.”

“well if you ever need a ride, just shoot me a text.”

BUT YOU ALREADY GOT ME FEELIN’ SOME TYPE OF WAY

over the course of a few weeks, y/n and matt continued to keep in touch, constantly texting one another. the tension never faltering as they bounced flirty and sexual innuendos off one another.

matt has begged for the two of them to hang out, either over facetime or in person, numerous times, even going as far as to ask to take her for a ride on his bike. but she declined every time, letting him know that her studies came first.

normally, if a girl wasn’t really interested in meeting up, whether to hang out or hook up, matt would give up within the first few days. but there was something about y/n that had him inexplicably drawn to her. the soft, delicate, almost innocent appeal to her had him feeling all sorts of ways.

talking to her had him feeling the same way speeding down the seventy stretch a couple blocks from his house on his kawasaki bike did. it was exhilarating, freeing, and terrifying all the same. everything she said, made him feel things he had never experienced, it was like he was speeding down a winding freeway, his arms outstretched on either side of him, letting fate decide what happened.

NOW IF I COULD FIGURE IT OUT, ID TAKE YOU BACK TO MY HOUSE SO WE COULD MEDDLE ABOUT

y/n sighed as she waited on the curb of the restaurant, hoping that the guy from her global economics discussion course that had asked her out would show up. but she knew deep down, he wasn’t going to.

it was another story where she was asked, only to be taken for a fool. she knew he only wanted to fuck, she knew guys were attracted to her pseudo-innocent appearance, thinking they could be the lucky one to corrupt her. but she knew better, and she always made sure the guys put up a fight before receiving what they wanted.

she sighed as she stood, wiping off the back of her jeans before pulling her phone out of her pocket. she opened her texts with jess before remembering jess was at a photoshoot for some clothing brand that reached out to her.

she stood there, glancing and forth between her phone and the sidewalk, torn between swallowing her pride and reaching out to matt to pick her up, or walking home, saving ego from taking a massive blow.

she was stubborn. she wanted to see matt, but she knew what his end goal was and she refused to take another hit to her pride and ego so quickly after being stood up and humiliated by some loser in one of her classes. so, she slowly made her way down the winding sidewalk, but the cold air made the walk somewhat unbearable, and before she knew it, she was pressing the call button, listening to the dial tone. after two rings, matt picked up.

“hey sweetheart.” he hummed into the speaker, that same taunting tone never faltering over the device.

“can you pick me up? i’ll send you my location.”

“aw, what happened? did jake stand you up, just like i said he would?” he laughs, causing her to groan. he was never malicious in the way he poked and prodded at her, he just wanted to prove she didn’t have to be right all the time.

“yeah whatever. can you pick me up or not?” she spits, fed up with the way her night turned out.

“lose the attitude and i can.” he spits back, patiently waiting for her to ask in that sugary sweet voice that had his thoughts drifting to a dark place. he knew he was going to pick her up regardless, but he just wanted to use anything he could as an excuse to hear her beg for him, he wanted hee to be completely at his mercy in every possible way.

“can you please pick me up matt? i’m cold and i just wanna go home.” she pleads, her lips falling into a slight pout, internally groaning at how quickly her resolve had faltered the second he implied and demanded that she beg for him.

“i was going to regardless, just wanted to hear you beg for my help, sweetheart.” he chuckles, he knew the way he was acting was sick and twisted, his desire to see this stubborn but oh so innocent woman crumple beneath his command overtaking all sense of chivalry in his body, his desire for her manifested through such deep desperation.

she quickly thanked him before sending a ping of her location. she pocketed her phone again, and wrapped her arms around her torso as a pathetic attempt to keep her shielded from her the cold air.

as she stood there, she fought hard to keep her thoughts at bay, refusing to let the desperation seep into the depths of her mind, fighting to keep herself from feeling pathetic. she didn’t want to feel that way, she knew her worth, but sometimes it felt impossible to find someone worthy of loving her. she wondered if she should just give up the one the thing guys wanted without a fight, she would be fine, right?

but before she could answer her own thoughts of despair, a low rumble came from her left, causing her head to snap in that direction. surely enough, the sound came from the muffled engine of matt’s motorcycle. and as she watched him swerve to idle in front of her, she couldn’t stop the filthy thoughts from infiltrating her mind. her eyes shamelessly fell to the sight of his hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars, the veins in his slender hands flexing as his thumb pressed down on the clutch. she felt her thighs clench tightly as her heartbeat thumped beneath her chest, the thumping slowly travelling down toward her heat as she watched him.

“hey sweetheart.” he hums, his tone thick with arrogance, watching as she shamelessly checked him out. she knew she shouldn’t be thinking of him the way she was, but the way his shoulder blades and muscle tightened and flexed as he shifted forward, leaving space for her to climb on behind him, made her want to rake her nails down the skin, her mind running amok with the possible ways he would react to her touch.

she shakes her head as she steps forward, timidly taking a step toward his bike. he watched her, taking in however scared she was, sighing he, grabs her wrist, stopping her from climbing over and straddling the seat behind him.

“you know i’ll be careful right? i’m not going to do anything that could end with you getting severely hurt.” he whispers, his eyes full of nothing but sincerity as she meets his stare, a meek smile on her face as she nods.

“good girl. now climb on, i’m gonna take my chances and take you on that ride i promised.”

her thighs clench involuntarily at the slight praise that falls from his lips, she could feel her resolve slipping further and further away the longer she was in his presence. and the fact that she would be sitting behind him, with her arms tightly wound around his waist felt much more intimate than it should’ve.

she quickly straddled the seat behind him, her hands began to shake slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, her hands flat against his abdomen as he kicked up the kickstand, leaning the bike to the other side with his foot on the ground as he revved the engine, causing her hands to ball into fists, with his black shirt tightly twisted between her fingers. as matt took off, he couldn’t help but chuckle as her grasp tightened against him, her cheek pressing against his back between his shoulder blades.

her grip began to loosen as matt took her around the city, and her head lifted from his back, as she took in the scenery around her. but matt missed the way she felt pressed so tightly against him, so in true torturous fashion, he sped up, causing her to go right back to pressing so closely against him, her hands pressing against his lower stomach so firmly, he was sure there’d be marks.

but he didn’t wanted to scare her too much, so he slowed down, coming to a full stop as the light above him flickered to red. as she pulled away, she felt her adrenaline build up and she wanted to finally tease him the way he did her, so she let her hands wander down his stomach, teasingly drifting lower, only to stop right above his belt and move back up.

as her hand trailed down toward his belt, matt’s breath hitched in his throat. he desperately wanted to feel her touch him where he needed it most, but his ego was bruised, he wanted to be the one in control, and right now, he was nothing putty in her hand. the light was still red and his heart was beating so harshly against his ribcage, that felt like it was about to burst out of his chest as her hand slipped beneath his shirt, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans.

as the light turned green, she pushed her hand further beyond his waistband, and he had never been more thankful to be driving at night. but before he could feel any relief, her hand was back against his stomach, with her head against his back as he drove her along the coast.

but once again they reached another red light, only one other vehicle a few lanes over from them, and this time she threw caution to the wind as her hand drifted downward again, this time not stopping at his belt. and soon enough, her hand was firmly palming his cock through his jeans, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood began filling his mouth.

he felt his cock stiffen even more as her hand wrapped around his length through his jeans, softly squeezing and applying pressure to it. her hand lifted momentarily, only for it to slip beneath the loosened waistband of his jeans, resuming her teasing but this time, only through one layer of clothing. her thumb traced along his tip, and she smirked to her as she felt the wet spot from his precum seeping through the material. she grasped his semi-thick cock over his boxers, slowly jerking her hand back and forth as best as she could until the light turned green. and matt had never been so lucky that the light turned green when it did because if she had kept up her ministrations, he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there.

he wasted no time in speeding off as the light turned green, taking her to a somewhat secluded turn off. he quickly killed the engine, forced the kickstand down, and ripped off his helmet, moving to stand in front of her before she could ask questions.

his lips were roughly pressing against hers in almost no time as she side-saddled the bike, his left hand pawing at her hips beneath the thin hoodie she wore as he pulled her closer, while his right hand wrapped around her throat, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

the kiss was rough, a clash of teeth, and full of lust. it was desperate and sloppy, their tongues brushing and pushing against one another as spit and drool accumulated along the muscles, transferring from mouth to mouth. her nails scraped against his scalp as she tugged on the soft brown curls, while her other hand held his bicep, her nails digging into the taught flesh slightly, leaving crescent shaped marks along the tattoos. pulling away, matt pulled her bottom lip with him slightly, entrance by the way it bounced back into its natural pout.

“fuck.” he hums, his chest heaving as she watches him, her pupils blown out with lust, the black drowning out their normal colour.

“i don’t know what came over me, i’m sorry.”

“don’t you dare apologize, sweetheart. but that is making it nearly impossible to not take you back to my house and ruin you.”

“what if i want that too?”

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[s-brant]

Make It Better

my masterlist (gif: @conradfiisher)

After getting into an argument with his brother, Conrad seeks out the comfort of a close friend.

8k (18+)

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, strong language, and slight angst.

-

For every girl in Cousins, there was something about Conrad Fisher that made them go a little crazy. And for Y/N, a girl who grew up with the Fishers and Conklins next door every summer, it was the fact that he decided to choose her of all people to be with. Even if Belly had him first, it was all worth it to her.

With Conrad, it's all soft-spoken praises, feather light brushes off his fingertips against forbidden places, and sensual kisses. It's all she can see when she closes her eyes to sleep at night or merely blinks during the day. It's hard to keep it a secret when her mind refuses to stop recalling the memories at a constant rate. Still, she has to be on her best behavior seeing that it is the last night they have together before the house is officially sold by Aunt Julia. And to honor their summer house, they collectively decided to throw a goodbye party.

The vibration of the bass thumping within the walls of the house is strong enough to rattle her eardrums as she takes a shot with her arm interlinked with Cam Cameron's. He, of course, is drinking a can of soda, but she was quick to assuage his insecurity when he mentioned it. It was the thought that counted.

She and Cam have been friends since they were in middle school, so, when he joined their circle of friends through Belly last year, it made her happy to have him around in the way Jere, Steven, Conrad, and Belly always were. When he and Belly ended their fling, she was there for both of them. She hugged Cam for a minute straight before letting go and offering to cheer him up with ice cream. For Belly, she told her she did the right thing by not leading him on and told her to follow her heart, wherever it may lead her, as they swam in the pool.

How was Y/N supposed to know it would lead her straight into the arms of the boy she's always loved?

"Okay," Cam rips her from her thoughts as he speaks, shoving his hydroflask filled with ice water into her hands, "You are officially cut off for the night until I see you drink some of this. I think your blood may be fifty percent tequila at this point."

She frowns at him.

"You're no fun, but I appreciate you looking out," she says.

She stays with him to swallow a few generous mouthfuls of water before handing the bottle back to him with a quiet, "Thank you. M'gonna go find Connie and Steven."

The last she checked, the two of them were taking pictures with the Polaroid camera they bought at the store earlier. They called her and Belly over to take turns taking pictures together. One of them all together, one of Y/N and Steven, then Belly and Conrad, and, finally Y/N and Conrad.

It was hard to watch Belly pose with him considering their extensive history together, but he knew that, and when it was her turn to pose with him, he wrapped his hand around her waist and entwined his fingers in hers to give it a reassuring squeeze. This made it extremely difficult for her not to smile too hard as she looked at the camera lens.

After the flash went off, Steven, the only person to know the details of their recent, days-old affair, says, "Wait, one more! One more! You'll thank me later, I swear."

With Belly having skated off, Taylor doing God knows what, and Jere lingering not far from wherever Belly went, they didn't feel too worried when they were directed to hug for the camera. Her cheek squished against his, their chests rising and falling to meet one another like matching puzzle pieces, and the scent of his body wash—the proximity to him was intoxicating.

"Okay, smileee—"

The flash off went off, and they stayed together for a few seconds longer than necessary before reluctantly pulling apart.

Steven handed each of them one of the pictures with a wink before saying, "Alright, Taylor wants me to do shots with her. I'll probably be back soon."

Conrad got the first one and she got the second. They couldn't help how they smiled as they stood side by side to admire them. His was carefully placed in the back pocket of his pants, which then made her realize that she did not have any pockets herself.

"Can you keep it safe for me?" she asked with a bright, moony-eyed expression. Her hands then slid down the front of her dress to feel for any place to store the photograph only to come up empty. "It's my own fault. Shouldn't have worn a dress."

His eyes softened as they looked up and down the length of her body, then settled back on her eyes.

"No," he said before he could stop himself, "it's perfect."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she was about to open her mouth to speak when Cam and Skye called her name from across the room.

After a second, he spoke again, "I'll catch up with you later, Padme."

When he turned to walk away, he heard her giggle from behind his back at the inside joke shared between the two of them.

As she searches through the house for him now, she smiles to herself at the thought of it. It originated when they were mere children. After finishing a marathon of the Star Wars franchise in release order—the only correct way to watch it according to Susannah and Laurel—one summer, they all became obsessed with playing pretend with sticks as lightsabers. A week later, once it became apparent that it wasn't a fleeting phase, Susannah surprised them with toy lightsabers.

Somehow, they decided amongst themselves who was who, and it just so happened that Y/N was Padme and Conrad was Anakin. Jere and Steven made a deal to take turns playing Obi-Wan Kenobi since they originally both wanted to be him, and Belly, the youngest of the bunch, was so happy to be included that she would play whatever character they wanted her to for the day. The only roles that never changed were Anakin and Padme. Even when they got to the main trilogy in their game of pretend, Conrad played Darth Vader, and Y/N let Belly be Princess Leia while she played as Darth Sidious. One way or another, they were always paired in some way. Fated.

They much preferred playing as the star-crossed lovers as opposed to the pair of evil Sith Lords. It pleased her more than she ever let on that she and Conrad were together, even if it was just pretend. They've always teasingly called each other by those names ever since.

She peeks into every entryway when she walks by in hopes that she'll spot Conrad or Steven, but neither of them appears. It isn't until she steps out onto the front porch after searching the whole lower level of the house that she finds one of them. Well, actually, she hears one of them. Conrad.

"Jere, you know for a fact that I came home every second I could—"

"But it wasn't every day!"

Jeremiah, she notes as she stands with her back against the front door. Neither of them sees her.

"Okay, okay," Conrad retorts. "What do you want? A medal?"

What Jere says next makes her have to look away in the direction of the neighbor's yard, not wanting to see the heartbreak written across his brother's face as he calls him a coward. Her jaw tightens with every vitriolic word spewed at him. It isn't her place to interrupt, but it kills her to stand by and listen.

"You're not someone to look up to. You're not even someone I wanna know."

The universe must have a cruel sense of humor, because the second these words are said, someone trying to swing the door open against her back sends her stumbling forward into their line of vision. The sound of her falling to her hands and knees brings their attention away from one another instantly.

Her eyes meet Jeremiah's first, then they immediately switch to lock eyes with Conrad, and the first thing out of her mouth is, "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything. I just came out here cause I couldn't find you guys. I'll go back inside." Despite her anger at what she overheard, she makes sure to look at both of them when she says, "I'm sorry."

She's already on her feet and facing the front door, abandoned by the guy who tried to walk out only to be greeted with this shit-show, when Jeremiah says, his tone harsh, "Don't. I was already leaving."

This makes her stop in her tracks, her hand frozen in place where it grabs the door handle, and, after she listens to Jere's footsteps gradually disappear, she turns back around.

Conrad is closer now than he was a second ago. Rather than remain in the driveway where he and his brother argued, he stands on the porch with his hands in his pockets. The look on his face...it's heartbreaking. His eyes are glassy, his lips downturned into a slight frown he tries to keep at bay, and knows based on the look he gives her alone that he will never forget what Jere said to him tonight.

She says softly, "Connie," unsure of what else to say to him, but that's all it takes to open the floodgates.

Silent tears start to fall down his cheeks as she closes the distance between them to take him into her arms in a comforting embrace. He bends down a little to allow his head to rest on her shoulder. Her hand cups the back of it to cradle his face into the soft crook of her neck, giving him the shelter he needs from the rest of the party to cry it out. The arms wrapped around her waist squeeze tightly enough to push the air from her lungs, but she never complains. To be in his arms is a blessing regardless of the reason and circumstances behind it.

They remain this way for the better half of a minute before he has the courage to break the silence. The hand on the back of his head brushes through his hair in a repetitive motion in hopes that it will soothe him.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" he asks. "I just"—he shakes his head—"I can't think straight right now..."

She nods.

"We can go to my house."

The Fishers and Conklins aren't nearly as familiar with her family's summer house as she is with theirs, but they have been inside a few times. On days when he didn't feel like being around everyone last summer, Conrad would come over and sit in the chair in the corner of her room, blowing the smoke from his joint out of the window while she cleaned, folded laundry, or read whatever book Laurel had recommended to her at the time. It was domestic in a way that made her heart skip a beat. It made her imagine how it would be in the future if they were together. If they truly ended up getting married as they pretended to when they were children while playing as Anakin and Padme.

She reaches down and entwines their fingers in order to lead him away in the direction of the house next door. It's a short walk over the fence gate that connects their yards. That was Susannah's doing. Five years into her friendship with the kids in her house, she and Y/N's parents agreed to install a new fence with a gate between their two properties to allow their children to play without having to leave the yard.

With everyone busy partying, no one should come back to sleep until way later. It wasn't until after they arrived back from their night at the country club that she remembered where her mom kept the spare key, so the others may forget their plans to sleep there. If they do, she'll shoot them a text in the group chat to remind them rather than allow them to sleep on the floor.

The door is already unlocked from when she went inside to shower and get ready with Taylor and Belly before the party, so all it takes is her turning the handle to allow them access.

She drops his hand once the door is kicked shut behind them and looks over her shoulder to say, "I think there's frozen food in the garage freezer if you're hungry," as she walks toward the kitchen. "And there's still my mom's Diet Coke in the fridge. We could always mix it with my dad's whiskey if you wanna keep drinking."

From behind, she can hear his footsteps on the freaking hardwood floor, getting closer and closer until his hand wraps around her arm to spin her around to face him.

"What—"

The question is cut short by his lips crashing against hers.

Kissing Conrad is something she doesn't think she will ever get used to or grow tired of. No matter how many times it happens, which, so far, has been at least three times since the night they spent at the country club, it takes her breath away the same as it had the first time when they were just children playing pretend.

Her arms are thrown around his neck in less than a second to pull him closer, and she doesn't hesitate to kiss him back. Not even for a second. At first, she is too intoxicated with the thrill of having him touching her to remember why they came here in the first place. Every thought revolves around him—the taste of the alcohol on his tongue, the feeling of his chest pressing against hers, and how confidently his hands find their place on her waist.

A second later, the memory of the fight he and Jere had comes back to her, and she forces herself to push him away.

"Wait," she says with her hands flattened against his chest to create some distance between them. "Wait, Connie."

When he opens his eyes, they're overflowing with concern for her. She already knows that he is assuming he made a mistake or that she doesn't truly want to do this with him, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, she is the one who is concerned for him.

"Are you okay? You and Jere just..." Her expression softens a little. "I don't wanna do this unless I know you're sure you're alright."

The confusion evident on his face disappears by the time she's finished speaking. In his mind, he anticipated something much worse than her wanting to check in on him to make sure he was okay. As the seconds passed between her telling him to wait and him looking at her, he feared she'd take back everything they shared in the past few days. All the secret kisses, gentle touches, and giggles. He wasn't sure he could take losing another one of the girls he grew up with in that way.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and stares at her without saying a word. If it were anyone else, it would be uncomfortable, but it never is with them. That's part of what keeps bringing him back to her. Of course, it can't end well seeing that he dated Belly, she's friends with her, and they had such a messy break-up, but what is he supposed to do? Ignore his feelings? Pretend not to want her when he clearly does? He can't do it. He won't. Now that he's already had a taste of her, he can't resist any it longer.

His chest rises with a deep inhale, then—

"I fucked everything up, and I knew Jere must have resented me for it, but I didn't think it was that bad," Conrad says. "I'm sad and angry, of course, but that doesn't mean you'd be taking advantage." He lets the tip of his nose brush hers with how close he comes. His voice is hardly a push of air when he speaks again. "You make everything feel better. You always have."

She doesn't allow him to kiss her again. Instead, she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck and keeps her eyes on his, not giving in even when their noses bump together and the heat of his exhales cloud on her skin. The kitchen table he has her pressed up against digs into her back, keeping her pinned in place exactly where he needs her.

"So, that's what you want?" she asks in a hushed tone even though they have the house to themselves. Every breath they take is pulled from the little pocket of air between their faces, and they can both smell the liquor on each other's breath every time they exhale. The hands on her waist slowly descend until they settle on her hips. "You want me to make it better?"

The moment she says the words, Conrad seems to melt into her touch. That is all it takes to turn him to putty in her hands, and he nods in response with his face pressed against hers.

"Is that okay?"

In other words, is that what you want? Have you been dying to get your hands on me the way I have been dying to get mine on you? It feels like a lifetime since they first hooked up in a secluded room at the country club, but it hasn't been more than a day.

In lieu of a verbal answer, she closes the inch of distance between them and connects their lips in a tender kiss.

He reciprocates with a passion that ramps up the intensity in a matter of seconds, quickly turning it from its initially timid and gentle nature into something more desperate and needy.  Those hands on her hips squeeze hard to keep control and steady her body as he presses her further into the table, making her back arch a little. Her hands wander to explore every part of him now that she knows he wants this again, and she slips them up underneath his shirt to feel his bare skin beneath her palms. But when her hands make contact with his nipples, he shivers.

Their lips disconnect, shining from the saliva they share, for him to murmur, "Cold hands," as explanation before reaching down for the hem of her dress. She helps him shimmy the tight material up from where it gets stuck around her breasts until it is pulled free and tossed somewhere on the kitchen floor behind her, leaving her in only her undergarments. And he is quick to dispose of those too. Nimble fingers fumble with the clasp of her bra for a few seconds, then it finally comes loose around her back.

But, that's the last thing she lets him take off of her before she puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

Without saying a word, she grasps the bottom of his shirt and starts lifting it up to reveal his bare chest to her. He takes the hint without a second of confusion, pulling it the rest of the way off. It drops from his grasp the second it's off his head and abandoned in favor of aiding her in her attempt to undo his pants with those soft, trembling hands.

In a way, it feels similar to their first time. It was against a wall at the country club the other night after they became bored looking for a place to sleep. All they knew was that they needed to make it quick, so they did. His hand disappeared down the front of her panties to help her along, the pressure of his fingertips rubbing her clit bringing a wetness that soaked the cotton fabric concealing her from view, and that was all the preparation they took before it happened. He asked, voice quiet and low, if she'd done it before when she began tugging on his shirt as they made out, so once she said she had, all bets were off.

The thought of it slows him down for a second.

That time, they had to get it over with quickly. If they hadn't, the others likely would have gone looking for them and found out what was going on in the office room they snuck into. It was rough and quick and passionate, and he liked that, he truly did, but recalling that now makes him want to do it differently this time. Especially considering what happened before they came into this house.

"Slower, slower," he murmurs into her mouth.

The adjustment is made instantly, and she allows him to take back full control of the kiss. With his hands pulling her hips flush against his, he surrenders to the urge to rut against her to relieve the aching of his hard cock through the material of his boxer briefs and unzipped pants. He invades her open mouth with his tongue and kisses her slower, deeper than he had the last time. His teeth nip playfully at her lower lip in the second he takes to pull back for air.

His hands cup her face on either side to keep her in place as he dips down to kiss the underside of her jaw. He doesn't dare to leave any marks behind where anyone could see them, but he does take his time and suck gently on the sweet spot on the gentle slope where her shoulder and neck bridge together. Faintly, they can both hear the music from his house next door over the wet sound of his lips on her neck.

The other day, they didn't have the time to do everything he wanted to with her, but tonight they do. Tonight, he has her to himself for the first time in months, and he isn't going to take that opportunity for granted. Everything with her happened too fast for him to process. Last week, he'd been caught up on Belly, and part of him still is, but, then, Y/N came into the picture in a way he never expected. Despite the fear of ruining their lifelong friendship, to be with her felt as natural a process as breathing.

The hands on her face slip down the sides of her neck and down the front of her body until they find the band of the thin little thong she chose tonight for the sake of not having panty lines through her dress. Part of it also had to do with the possibility of this happening again, but she'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

It appears, however, that he already knows when she finds the end of his mouth tipping upwards in a slight smirk as his fingers hook around the fabric. Seeing that they just hooked up yesterday and that these are a decent step up from the boy-short panties patterned with flowers he saw her in before, it isn't too difficult to put together.

Conrad sinks down onto his knees to tug it down her legs, and before her cheeks can begin to burn with embarrassment, she warns him, "Don't even."

This draws a giggle from him, his head tilting back to let him look up at her. Even in the midst of their playfulness and laughter, the sight of him kneeling before her makes her go weak in the knees. The strands of hair hanging in his eyes frame his face with an effortlessness she has envied him for her whole life. His beauty is classic, statuesque, even. He is the specific type of attractive that never falls out of trend or becomes less shocking over time. At least, not for her.

"I didn't say anything."

She counters, still laughing, "You didn't have to!"

At this point, she is grinning from ear to ear, and it's difficult to be self-conscious about being laid bare in his presence when he's looking at her like that. Her left leg is lifted off of the ground for her underwear to slide off of her ankle, but he doesn't put it back down. Instead, he turns his head to kiss her sensitive inner thigh, leaving her with nothing to do except watch while the anticipation of what he plans on doing eats her alive.

Unlike her neck, he has no qualms about marking up her thighs. It may be mildly uncomfortable to forgo wearing shorts in the summer heat, but it's doable. She can wear some of the bottoms she has stored in the dresser upstairs to keep the others from seeing if need be. His other hand grips her right hip to keep her steady while his other has her bent leg propped over his shoulder. Soon, his kisses have made a path up the length of her thigh, and she can't help but breathe heavier when she feels the heat of his exhales at the apex of her thighs.

"Connie..." she breathes out.

This brings his attention up, eyes fluttering open from where they'd been closed as he inched closer and closer to where she wants him most. And when she finds him looking up at her, pupils dilated and lips swollen from kissing, she can hardly breathe.

He asks, "You nervous?"

Words fail her. All she can do is nod.

"Don't be," Conrad whispers, the hand on her hip reaching to take hers in it for the sake of comforting her. "It's just me."

To this, she chuckles a little and tries not to shift in place with the sheer discomfort of the need she feels for him in this moment. No one has ever done this specific sexual act with her before, so the nerves are strong, but not quite as strong as her curiosity or desire.

"That's exactly why I'm nervous."

Her free hand comes down to brush the hair out of his face, and he leans into the touch like a cat brushing up between your legs. His eyes shut again for a second to appreciate the sweet gesture before looking up at her again, a slight grin begging to come to fruition on his face.

"Let me make it better, then," he says softly, in that charming, distinctly Conrad way that could take any girl's breath away with ease.

The first flick of his tongue against her is gentle, a mere glimpse of what's to come, but it stuns her all the same. Never having experienced this before, she is extremely sensitive to anything he does to her, and she finds that she's far more sensitive when it's his mouth pleasuring her as opposed to his fingers. Every soft brush of his lips against her in teasing kisses makes her hips press forward into his face in a silent command to continue without her noticing that she's doing it. He is quick to notice it, though, and he doesn't continue to tease her any longer.

This time, when he spread her open on his tongue, he gives her what she wants.

Sparks of pleasure shoot through her the second she feels him lapping at her aching clit, soft and gentle at first until he feels her grinding herself forward against his face for more. With her soft sighs and stifled moans as encouragement, he dips his head between her legs and eats her like a man starved. The remaining leg she stands on is quickly guided over his other shoulder, and his hand slips out of hers in favor of taking hold of her hips. The supple flesh of her ass is soft where it is squeezed beneath his fingertips and used as leverage to bring her as close as possible.

"Mm," she whines, "Fuck..."

The ability to speak evades her in the heat of the moment, but they both know how much she's enjoying this without her having to come out and say it. If the sounds she's making weren't enough, the hand she has gripping the back of his head to keep his mouth on her would prove it.

She knew from conversations overheard between the boys that Conrad was no stranger to this kind of thing. It may have made her heart sink into the pit of her stomach to hear it back then, but, right now, she's thankful for his experience. Every lick, kiss, and caress is placed exactly where she needs it as though he's able to read her body without having to open his eyes. The pleasure he's giving her far outweighs the jealousy she feels when she remembers that he's done this with other girls, one of them possibly being Belly.

The taste of her arousal, slick on his lips and tongue, has him humming in contentment into her as though he is the one being pleasured by this. In a way, he is. There's something intoxicating about being surrounded by her in every sense like this—her weight on his shoulders, her hands in his hair, and her thighs clamped shut on either side of his face. His dick strains against the fabric of his underwear as well as his unzipped pants, pulsing with the desire to sink into her and find his release.

She cants her hips to grind down on his face in pursuit of something closer, something deeper that they can't manage like this. And it isn't long before she starts to pull gently at his hair, reaching down and trying to pull on his arm to get the message across.

Conrad's lips part from her soaked pussy with a wet sound. When he looks up at her from between her thighs, she can see how his lips and chin are smeared with her arousal. It glistens under the moonlight coming in through the kitchen window. In seconds, the moment is already gone. The hands gripping her hips slide down to take hold of her thighs in order to guide them off of his shoulders, and when he sets her back down onto the ground, her muscles are trembling.

He's standing back up at his full height with his body slotted perfectly between her legs in the time it takes her to blink. Their next kiss is hungrier, much more aggressive in nature, than the last they shared, and she can taste herself on his lips.

In the gaps between their fervent kisses, she says, breathless, "I know you wanted to go slower this time, but I can't." His tongue invades her mouth again, pushing past her soft lips to allow the taste of her lip balm to blend with the semi-sweet taste of her pussy. It's only when his tongue retreats to give him the chance to bite down on her bottom lip that she can speak again. "Please," she whines and juts her hips out until she feels him hard against her. "We can go again after, I just want you now."

This sends him into a bit of a frenzy.

He has had his fair share of hook-ups—not nearly as many as Jere but plenty—yet there's something about her that thrills him in a way few others ever could. No girl has ever said anything like that to him. With Belly, it was her first time, so everything was tender and experimental due to the nature of the situation. With Y/N, it's different in the sense that they cannot be fairly compared. How could anyone compare a gentle, sweet first time with what may end up being the best fuck of his life, surpassing the quickie at the country club that left them both breathless and weary.

Conrad is panting for air when their lips part, their mouths hanging open and brushing as he hefts her up onto the table with little effort. Beneath her hands, she can feel his biceps flex with the quick lift. Taut muscle contracts and pushes back against her fingers before relaxing again once her ass is planted on the tabletop, but if it weren't for her hands gripping his arms for support, she wouldn't have noticed it had any effect on him. It's strangely arousing. She never gave his casual strength much thought until he utilized it in this context for the first time. A thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead when he had to keep her lifted against the wall at the country club as he thrust into her, but he didn't struggle.

Please. He hears her whining the word on a loop in his mind as he aids her in shoving his pants and underwear down his lean thighs. We can go again after. She wraps her hand around his length and pumps a few times despite the fact that he's already hard enough for it to ache. All the while, he's still stuck on the things she said. We can go again after. Not only does she want him now, she already knows she'll want him again. I just want you now. That crucial part gave him the answers he'd been seeking for the past twenty-four hours since he pinned her to the wall at the country club and fucked her hard enough to make the framed paintings shake on their hooks. I just want you now. It was life-altering for her too.

As he angles his hips just right to guide the broad tip of his cock into her, his fingers dig into her hips so hard, she'll be shocked if it doesn't bruise by tomorrow.

She uses the legs wrapped around his hips to push him further into her, and they both gasp at the sensation it brings them. Her heels press into the backs of his thighs, urging him to take whatever he wants from her whenever he wants it. It doesn't matter that the stretch she feels the further she urges him inside of her almost makes her have to bite down on her lip to contain a wince. Nothing matters to her except for getting as close to him as physically possible.

He lets out a low, drawn-out, "Oh fuckkk," under his breath as he sinks the rest of the way into her.

Their noses bump with every slight movement made or breath taken in, and she refuses to look away from his eyes. There's something inherently vulnerable about holding unwavering eye contact with him while he is buried in her to the hilt. The hands on his biceps slide up slowly until both of her arms are wrapped behind his neck to keep him from shying away from her at any point. This is the closeness she craved more than anything. Nothing else would do, not even having him on his knees for her.

It's a wonder that he doesn't come right away with how tightly the soft, warm walls of her pussy are squeezing around him. And when she bucks her hips up in a wordless request for him to move, he shakes his head.

Eyes clenched shut, Conrad murmurs, "I just need a second."

He feels her nod against his face, her nose nudging his cheek. For the next thirty or so seconds, he remains as still as possible. It's torture for him to stay this way and resist doing what comes naturally. Although it's for his sake, not hers, he struggles to keep a firm enough hold on his self-control. He keeps his eyes shut because he knows that if he looks at her, he won't stand a chance.

It isn't until the fire that blazed in the pit of his abdomen has calmed that he allows himself to look at her again. When he opens his eyes, she's already watching him. Her fingers twirl strands of his hair absentmindedly, and when she sees him open his eyes again, she closes the gap between their lips again.

This time, as his lips slot against hers, he draws away from her, pulling out until it's only his tip inside of her.

"You don't have to be gentle," she murmurs. "I can take it. I won't break."

His response comes in the form of him snapping his hips into her until he's gone as deep as she can take him. Despite her urging him to get rougher with her, she still gasps at the sudden intrusion and looks up at him with a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. Her past hook-ups were meaningless and unfulfilling. It happened during her freshman year at Trinity College while Conrad and Belly were dating. Considering what was going on at the time, she didn't plan to talk to either of them about it afterward, and, once it was as over, she didn't want to.

It was horrible.

It was the polar opposite of her first time with Conrad. Not only was it with an uncaring frat boy she met at a party her roommate dragged her to, it was uncomfortable. He didn't do anything other than get himself hard and stick it in, and with her nerves being so bad, it was already hard for her to get aroused. But it couldn't be any more different now. It couldn't be any more different with him.

It's rougher than it was initially, yet still slow and sensual. The hands on her hips guide her into a cadence to match his movements each time he thrusts into her, stifling the sound of his own low moans by smearing his mouth against hers. It's a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues brush, saliva coating their lips, and he makes sure there isn't a single part of her left un-worshiped tonight. Whether it be her neck, her collarbone, or her jaw, he pays every part of her the attention it deserves, partly for her sake and partly because he cannot help himself.

Their lips pull apart with a loud smacking sound, and he keeps his forehead pressed to hers as he looks into her eyes, head tilting just slightly to the side. One of his hands abandons its place at her hip to slide up the length of her torso. Her stomach flinches inward at the contact of his knuckles brushing her skin on the way past, but it's when he lets his hand flatten over her breast that she lets out a shaky exhale, He doesn't spend too much time there, though. After teasing her with a gentle squeeze, his hand wraps around the back of her neck for the sake of having control of where she looks, and, right now, he wants her to look at him as he admits something to her.

"I've dreamt about this," Conrad whispers.

He delights in her slack-mouthed expression when he ruts into her a touch faster and harder for the sake of seeing the expression on her face shift.

Somehow, she finds her voice and manages to stammer out, "I"—she is interrupted by the need to take in a sharp breath of air—"I thought..."

The hand on the back of her neck squeezes harder at the implication of her unfinished statement. It isn't necessary for her to continue the thought, he already knows what it means. I thought you dreamt about Belly. He did. He dreamt of Belly every night last summer, but it was Y/N who he dreamt of first.

She was the one who awakened these feelings within him for the first time. Being the oldest alongside him, she was the first to develop, and he didn't know what to do with the feelings that surfaced the summer she came back looking less like a girl and more like a woman. She was the first person he kissed, albeit for a game they played together, not Belly. Surely, he thought she had to know that it meant something to him too, but when he looks at her now, it's clear that he thought wrong.

His brows pinch together at the sensation of her tightening up around him, but his eyes are soft. Tender. Honest. He shakes his head. Just once.

"You were first," he says it so quickly, she almost misses it. "It was you."

That doesn't mean what he had with Belly meant nothing. In fact, it means the opposite. What he had with Belly was unlike anything he experienced before, but so is this. There is no way for Conrad to compare the two because what he feels for them is so solid yet different.

With Belly, he knew what he meant to her. He knew she put him on a pedestal her whole life and believed every word he said, so it was difficult not to feel an added pressure to live up to that standard. His heart broke when he ruined prom for her, but he did it because he thought he didn't deserve her.

With Y/N, they've always mirrored one another. Both the eldest in their respective families, gifted children, and sensitive in a way that troubled them more than most of their siblings and friends. Where everyone else misunderstood Conrad, she understood him. And it was never something that had to be acknowledged out loud or spoken of. It was a law of existence.

The summer before last, when Conrad got into reading as a result of Laurel gifting him a few of her favorite classics, he ended up insisting that Y/N read Wuthering Heights shortly after he finished it. Never having read for pleasure before, she thought she'd find it difficult to devote herself to it, but she should have known. She should have known that if he wanted her to read it, there were good reasons for it. Belly and the boys were having dinner with their moms when she finally got to his favorite line.

It was underlined in red ink, she noted, not pencil. Never to be erased or undone in any way. When she read it, she knew immediately that he'd done it for her. On the page, it read, "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same," and that was the moment she knew she loved him.

Right now, as he kisses her and reaches down with the same hand that held her neck to rub her clit, it's all she can think of. So, she says it. She takes the vulnerable confession and offers one of her own in return.

"You were first for me too," she says breathlessly.

The contact of his fingertips brushing her most sensitive spot has her jolting against him in equal parts shock and pleasure. It instantly makes the feeling of him rocking into her at a steady pace all the more gratifying. What she said is fuel to the fire for him. It urges him on, chasing the weightless, stirring feeling inside of him with reckless abandon. He decides to trust what she said about being able to handle him not being gentle, because, truth be told, he can't control himself.

Conrad, lost in the haze, starts sucking at her neck after he leans down to kiss it. Everything outside of this house no longer exists to either of them, so it doesn't occur to them that they'll have to answer for the marks left behind on her come morning. No, all he can think of is what he feels for her and how he can possibly show her the full extent of it without telling her. This is the only way, he thinks. When he talks, he fucks everything up, but she has to know how he feels through this. After all, she's always had a sixth sense when it comes to him. Why should it be any different now?

Her fingers card through his hair and tug gently on the soft strands as she tips back her head and arches her body into him, gasping into the dark, empty kitchen. Even when he kisses his way back up to her lips, he remains trapped in the trance she put him under, taking every part of her for himself. It takes her crying out in bliss at the combined sensations of his fingers on her clit and the smooth, wet drag of his cock inside of her for him to meet her gaze again. This time, he doesn't dare look away. Neither does she.

Their eye contact never wavers as she murmurs, face twisted in pleasure, "Fuck, I think—"

Her sentence can't even be finished before she's coming undone from the next caress of his fingers against her.

The arms wrapped around the back of his neck pull him in as her body tenses up with the onset of her climax. Not only does he watch and listen as the euphoria washes over her, he feels it. He can feel her spasming around him, clenching and unclenching, through every powerful wave.

Her jaw has fallen open in a gape that allows every beautiful moan, gasp, and whine to escape into the space between their lips. And it's the sensation of her coming around him that threatens to send him over the edge, but he holds out for as long as he can. Both for the sake of helping her ride it out and prolonging his own orgasm.

He pulls out quickly out of fear of finishing inside and withdraws the fingers that were rubbing her clit to wrap them around his cock, stroking himself once, twice, three times until he comes with a breathy moan. Watching it drip down her trembling stomach heightens the swift pulses of pleasure, and when his body jerks involuntarily from how good it feels, the next rope of cum lands across the hickeys on her inner thighs. It's downright filthy, but he'll be damned if it isn't the most erotic thing he's ever seen in real life.

For a second, time is suspended to allow them both the chance to catch their breath and enjoy the comfort of each other's embrace. Her arms are still linked around him, trapping him in, and he lets his face fall forward onto her shoulder with a tired sigh. It's impossible for either of them to find words in the midst of their post-orgasmic bliss, so they don't bother trying. Much like how it has been for their lives preceding this moment, the silence is comfortable. There is no misunderstanding, awkwardness, or trying to fill the space with meaningless small talk.

Once the rapid rise and fall of their chests have evened out, Conrad pulls away from his cherished spot in the crook of her neck and kisses her one last time before coming back down to earth.

He's already pulling his pants back up before moving to get a few paper towels from the kitchen counter, telling her, "Stay there, I got it."

The sound of the tap turning on reaches her ears, then vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and it isn't long before Conrad is back in front of her. Every swipe of the damp wad of paper towel is gentle on his skin, carefully minding where she's particularly sensitive in the aftermath of what they did. As he wipes his release up from her stomach and thighs, he folds the towel in half to clean her again, then, once he's finished, he leans down with one hand cupped underneath her thigh and presses a kiss to one of the marks he left behind.

Her face burns hot at this, but she tries not to let it rattle her brave face.

"You're lucky I like you so much," she says, tilting her head to show him her neck, "cause this is gonna be impossible to hide."

He can't even stop the smirk from crossing his face at the sight of her freshly bruised skin. Yet, he doesn't answer right away. He simply continues to smile to himself and walks around the island she's perched on, digging in the freezer for something for the next moment or so. When he returns, he's holding up a bag of frozen peas as though it is a coveted trophy.

"This will help," he says and gently presses the cold bag over the spot on her neck. "Thank you, by the way."

She blinks at him.

"For what?"

His shoulders pull up in a shrug as he tries to find the right way to word it without it sounding like he's only talking about the sex.

"For everything." He says softly, rubbing the edge of her jaw with his thumb. "Sometimes, I feel like you don't know what you mean to me."

The room has been plunged into silence since they stopped moaning, panting, and joining their bodies together. All that can be heard over their voices is the music next door, as well as loud voices speaking in the back and front yard. In here, though, it's just them, and he can hear how her breath hitches in her throat at what he said.

"It was confusing last summer, but ever since you underlined that part in the book you gave me, I've known. At least to some extent," she admits. "I knew you did that for me."

He nods.

"I did."

There's a long pause, then—

She breaks her gaze with him and looks down at the floor, smiling like an idiot at the thought of what has transpired in the last forty-eight hours. Seeing her clothes in a pile on the floor prompts her to take the frozen peas from him and jump down from her seat on the counter.

As explanation, she says, holding the bag to her neck, "We should probably get back to the party before anyone notices we're gone."

He casts a quick glance to the counter where they fucked for a second before looking at her again.

"And probably clean that."

A giggle escapes her when he says this.

"Yeah, we definitely should."

-

Hello! Finally wrote a Conrad fic! If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. If you want to be added to a tag list for future Conrad fics, let me know as well. Thank you.

[steviewashere]

Steve and Eddie being teenage boys (even in their twenties, even though they technically are no longer teenagers), a list that I've been making in my head (some of them are stupid and some of them are sweet, but this is a long list, be warned):

Steve teaching Eddie how to burp the alphabet after drinking soda. He's phenomenal at it. Like...almost disgustingly so. It ends up turning into a one up competition pretty fast after that.

Eddie who knows how to drag race and takes Steve on ridiculously fast drives down empty streets at night (when Steve's had a terrible night). He steps on the gas and goes: "Weeee!!!" as they speed. (Please don't speed. It is dangerous. But for the sake of entertaining their pea brains, this is what they do.)

Eddie and Steve who have been participating in a several month long tagging game. They slap each other on the back of shoulders as hard as they possibly can before skittering off like a little goblin.

Steve and Eddie think it's soooo fucking funny to blow up condoms like balloons when they're stoned.

Steve and Eddie who get stoned and they go shop for munchies at the local grocery store, both hysterically giggling at figuring out how to be "normal" people in public. (They are failing miserably.)

Steve who makes Eddie play basketball with him sometimes. And then he purposefully tosses the ball at Eddie rather than the basket. It devolves into wresting in the grass, heads in elbows, knuckles across scalps, kicking each other in the shins.

One time, Steve falls asleep at Eddie's on the couch. And instead of being all sweet and doting, Eddie finds a marker and draws a penis on Steve's face. He gets water poured on his head the next time he falls asleep at Steve's as payback.

Steve and Eddie comforting each other through nightmares and hardships and healing injuries, both in sort of constipated, mumbled ways. Pats to the back and leaning in close to each other, resting heads on shoulders. Passing cigarettes or beers back and forth just to pass the time, not really talking. Exchanging words afterwards like, "You're a great friend," and "You're the best person I know." Because they both need that and recognize that, even outside of the petty, childish things they do to each other.

Eddie, who understands that the pool at Steve's is a sore spot, instead of prodding them to get in, he plans out a whole water balloon fight to stave off the summer heat.

Steve, who knows that music has been a source of calm for Eddie over the years, makes sure there's always a cassette that Eddie can play in case it gets too quiet.

Eddie and Steve who shit talk each other in the arcade, beating each other's high scores if only to rile the other one up.

Steve who always checks Eddie's ID before he goes into the adult only room in Family Video. Despite knowing that Eddie is definitely over the age of eighteen. Sometimes he denies Eddie entry in front of Keith just to make him pout. (He thinks it's cute.)

Eddie and Steve watching porn together, criticizing the moans the entire time because they know for sure it's fake. And on the same note of moans, Eddie who gets a call from Wayne and Steve fake moans in the background the entire time. Steve gets a call from his parents and Eddie shouts really loud in the background for Steve to pass the joint back. They just glare at each other before getting in another tag fight throughout wherever they're at.

Eddie who goes into Family Video after Steve strikes out again. Who just walks up to the counter and starts acting like one of those girls, twirling his hair and pouting his lips and blinking his eyes, making his voice high pitched. (It gets Steve to giggle instead of pout, so Eddie calls it a win.)

Eddie guzzling an entire can of Coke and then spraying it out of his nose when Steve makes him laugh too hard. Steve's never made anybody laugh that hard.

Steve and Eddie who claim it's not gay to make their boners kiss. I mean...what? Who said that?

Steve and Eddie who play-punch a little too hard when playing punch buggy on vacation.

Speaking of vacation, Steve and Eddie going to a beach over the summer. They chase each other up and down the sand. They roll off of the sand hills. Eddie buries Steve in the sand and applies sunscreen to his face as he just accepts his fate. Steve helps Eddie make a sandcastle, a secret talent of his being how structurally sound he can build one.

Steve and Eddie playing with Legos while talking shit about Family Video customers. They toss Sour Patch Kids into each other's mouths as they talk. Sometimes hitting each other in the face purposefully.

Steve and Eddie who get drunk one night and go catch a wild possum. Robin screams at them to put it back because, "No, you dinguses, that is not a cat!"

Eddie and Steve taking care of each other on bad pain days. Trying to entertain the other with stupid jokes or shitty movies or gossip.

Eddie sharing his uncle with Steve when he finds out that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington are terrible motherfuckers. Who makes sure Steve is comfortable in his home around Wayne.

Steve conspiring with Wayne to make sure that Eddie always has the best birthday parties. Because the one thing he really held onto from his King Steve years was how to throw a small get together, and how, especially, to make it extremely awesome and memorable.

Steve who gets Eddie new albums he's been eyeing for his birthday. Ones Eddie knows he'd never be able to afford on his own, always a little sullen when he looks at the price. Steve who still has access to his dad's credit card and will max it out just for Eddie to get his fill.

Eddie makes homemade things for Steve's birthday. Cards and trinkets and drawings—things Steve's old high school buddies never considered as gifts, even though they have the most impact on Steve, even though they matter the most.

Steve and Eddie who love each other, insurmountably. Despite sometimes being major buttheads to each other.

[inkievoid]

how about a desperate almost ex-husband leon being extremely needy and trying to get his wife back not to divorce him

Anon, idk who you are but you better become a regular if these are the ideas you throw into my ask box. I took liberty in picking which Leon would best fit and I just... It's Vendetta. I'm sorry, wet street rat Leon just stinks of desperation and in need of attention.

Also I am so sorry this took ages to get to you. I've been on break and was going through it. Hopefully it was worth the wait 🤍

Slight NSFW/Alluding to Sex

Not edited/Proof Read

"Please baby, I miss you..." You listen to the last few garbled words from the old voicemail. You hadn't seen or heard from him in a month. No calls, texts, letters or even the occasional flowers or muffin basket he'd have delivered to your office.

You know you shouldn't miss him. The divorce was for a good reason. Or at least it was supposed to be. You still loved him, he still loved you, but his absence was getting to you. You knew who you were marrying, a government agent who wasn't home as often as he wanted to be. You were left to your own devices often. Left with friends. Friends who talked. Talked about how neglectful he seemed to be. You defended him with your life, knowing the good man he was and still is. They picked him apart in secret, threw his flaws out for display like some kind of rotting carcass you'd see on the side of the road.

But eventually they got into your head about deserving better. So, against all the arguing or begging on his end you asked for a divorce and filed. That was a few months ago. He's not even officially moved out of the apartment you two share yet but you're adamant on being separated.

He on the other hand is trying to hold on for as long as possible. At least you thought he was. He left for work over a month ago and you knew he was back. No state marshall or sheriff showed up to tell you he died.

Maybe he was trying to respect your distance and keep away finally. But then Jill sent you the E-vite...

One of the worst parts of divorcing Leon was you having the same friends. You were both civil. No one took anyone's side so you'd both be invited places, even after the separation. You take in a deep breath, knowing he'd definitely be at this dinner party. It was going to be a struggle but you're a big girl. You can handle anything.

Sucking it up, you step out of your car, fixing your dress in place as you look up at the condominium. Seeing the lights on the shared rooftop space gleaming against the dusk sky. It didn't take long for you to push the door open at the top of the stairs seeing everyone dressed in semi-formal attire. Long puffy sleeves swaying as you pull at the gold locket hanging above the sweetheart neckline. The end of you dress puffing out and brushing lightly against your opaque black pantyhose covered knees. Heels clicking against the concrete of the roof as someone calls out to you.

"Hey! Glad you could make it." Claire, one of the hosts, walks out a small group of people in her dark pink dress. She wraps you in a tight hug looking you up and down.

"Thanks for inviting me!" You look around the crowds of people trying to decipher who's here.

"Last time I saw him was with Chris like half an hour ago. He showed up early." Claire knew who you were looking for. You give her an appreciative nod and tell her you'll be doing your rounds to be polite.

After grabbing a glass of wine you start making your rounds. Feet starting to hurt from your heels, they always killed your ankles. Stepping to the side you bump into another guest and spill red wine on yourself. Turning you see Rebecca with her mouth open, shocked expression on her face, clutching the front of her green dress.

"I'm so sorry," she frantically steps over, examining the blotch of dark red on your dress, "Jill and Claire probably have soda water at their place. Why don't you go ask?"

You quickly find Claire, desperate to not let this stain stick.

"Just head down to the condo. Jill's down there babysitting dinner. It should be done soon actually." You nod, heading down to the condo quickly. Knocking on the door you hear loud footsteps coming towards the door. The door swings open, Chris looking down at you in his charcoal gray suit.

"Oh hey. You finally showed." You smirk, smacking his shoulder before going in for a tight hug. Squeezing you in his arms he lifts you, pulling you through the threshold of the condo. The door shuts as he walks towards the kitchen, setting you down in the doorway. Jill turning her head from the stove. Wearing a dark blue pantsuit.

"Hey!" Dropping the wooden spoon onto the stove she walks over, hugging you tightly. She looks down at your dress noticing the wine spot. "Oh God. It looks like you were shot."

"Red wine and Rebecca."

"Ah. Let me get you something for that."

Jill starts searching the cabinets as Chris leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest.

"How've you been with... Everything?" Chris grabs his beer off the counter, taking a leisurely sip. Watching Jill out of the corner of his eye.

"I can't complain."

"Yeah you can. You're getting a divorce. Can't be easy."

"Chris." Jill shoots him a nasty glare, standing up straight with a bottle of soda water and a cloth.

"What!? I can't be blunt with her now?" Jill sighs, sliding the stuff across the island to you, watching you grab them.

"You can use the guest bathroom. Our main one is being worked on. It's down the hall to the right. Dinners done so just head upstairs when you're ready."

"Thanks." You nod, walking past them both and down the hall and into the guest room. You don't flick the light on, walking through the moonlight cover room to the door and push your way in. Starting to work on the stain on your dress after. Blotting the wine out slowly, taking your time to draw it out. Working the wine out you look at yourself in the mirror.

Tired eyes covered by concealing makeup and a fake sense of happiness. You really haven't slept well in weeks, since the filing. It was weird going back home alone. A knock startles you out of your staring. You quickly access the damage, deeming your work satisfactory enough. Opening the door you're met with dark circles under icy blue eyes. Stubble surrounding plump rosy lips as he gasps.

Now face to face with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

"Hey..."

"Hey." You two stare at each other for a moment, no one knowing what to say exactly. So you start cleaning up and rinsing the rag.

"I'll be out of your way in a second."

"Take your time." He assures, putting a hand on your lower back as he passes you and steps to the towel cabinet, sliding one of the drawers open and looking for something. You continue to rinse the rag, watching him in your peripherals as he searches. Wearing his old dark blue suit and a white button up open enough to show off his collar bones.

The silence is so awkward you could feel your toes curling in your heels.

"You look good." He speaks looking at you, you shut the sink off looking in his direction with a small smile.

"Thank you." you look him up and down. Taking in the appearance of him being dressed up for once. You always liked him cleaned up. "You look like a nightclub owner."

He chuckles, smiling as he grabs a box of bandaids from the drawer, shutting it with his hip as he starts reaching inside the box.

"You hurt yourself?" The old tinge of worry hits you as he starts walking towards you, presumably leaving.

"Just a little cut. Tried to catch a knife and it didn't work out." He shows his left palm, a cut along the side of his thumb, still bleeding.

"Jesus Lee..." You turn the sink back on and make him shove his hand under the cold water to slow the bleeding. You start washing the blotch of blood already dried on his palm as he just lets you. You're delicate hands scrubbing the shell shaped soap across his paler palm compared to the slight tan of his skin. You feel his right arm move and slide around you, hand on your waist like it's still so natural as he fixes to your side.

You stare at his hand, watching the bleeding slow as you rinse his palm. But you finally notice he's wearing his wedding ring still. The black band that matches yours sitting at home in your jewelry box, collecting dust when it could be getting pawned like your friends suggested. But you've grown attached to it, even if it is a constant reminder of what was. You shake the feeling, turning the faucet off and grabbing the hand towel to dry the area.

"You know, I can do this myself right?" You look up at your reflections in the mirror, it's almost like he's watching you over your shoulder with how close he is. His eyes watching your every action so lovingly. It makes you smile and forget that you shouldn't be feeling butterflies in your stomach right now.

"You never do it right." You tease, feeling his chest press against your shoulder and back. Notes of citrus and buttery sandalwood touch your nose. Making his noticeable lean over your shoulder almost forgiveable as you apply the bandage on his hand. You feel his nose brush against your ear as you throw the wrappers in the tiny trashcan next to the sink.

"Leon... No." His hand squeezed gently as it moves down to your hip, he takes a slow breath in. Letting the scent of your perfume and shampoo fill his senses completely.

"I miss you..." His voice is so soft, his breath against your ear makes a bolt of electricity shoot up your spine and your skin tingle. Goosebumps forming over your arms as you side step away from him. Looking at him again, his eyes look filled with desperation as he tries closing the gap again.

"I've been thinking about you nonstop for the past month." You paw at the bathroom doorknob, opening the door and slipping into the guest bedroom. He quickly follows you into the dim lighting.

"I'm seeing a therapist now." You glance at him, turning away as you try making a break for it.

"Good for you." You misjudge your step and smack your foot against the table next to the door, twisting your ankle in the process. Immediately, you hunch over to grab your ankle and whine in pain.

"Baby..." He leans down looking at your ankle as it starts to swell already. "Come here."

Quickly you're lifted off your feet and being carried over to the bed, reminiscent of your wedding night. Leon sits, putting your legs over his lap.

"You know these heels are bad on your ankles." His hands slight over your heel, pushing the offender off your foot and doing the same to the next. His fingers glide over your ankle making you wince and whimper. "I'm sorry... I can't really see it well with the..."

His fingers pinch against your pantyhose and pull it gently. Looking at you as if asking for permission. His hands glide up your legs, looking at you. Giving a small nods his hands go up your thighs, pulling at the waist and down your legs. Dropping them with your heels. His hands linger on your bare thighs as he stares. Gripping with the tenderness you'd forgotten about, a small huff leaves his lips before you clear your throat.

"Leon..." He snaps back to reality looking at your ankle and rubbing it. You complain again, feeling your heart beat in you leg.

"Good news, it doesn't look broken."

"No shit." He smirks looking back at you, lips turning into a sincere smile as his brows drop.

"Still as snarky as ever..." It's your turn to stare now, watching his hands wander back up your legs and wrap around your knees. Pulling you closer and wrinkle the sheets below you.

"Who would I be without my smart ass mouth?" His eyes drift halfway closed, his body almost completely pressed against your chest with his own. His arm slides around your waist with practiced ease.

"Not my wife." His words flow so naturally. Like no time has past since the separation. Being this close doesn't feel nearly as awkward as you expected it to be. His hands are as gentle as the look he's giving you. That same puppy dog stare only you seem to yank out of the rough and tough exterior.

It makes you crack a smile... A smile you definitely shouldn't be showing so easily.

"I miss you." His voice is soft again, leaning closer into you, cupping your cheek with a callused hand. "Do you miss me?"

"Yes." The answer rolls off your tongue without a second thought. The corners of his lips turning higher, smiling brighter then you've seen in a while. He doesn't waste any time pulling you into his lap, smothering you in his embrace and pulling you into a heated and hungry kiss.

Hands traveling into every available spot on your body. Finally finding his way under the skirt of your dress and pulling your hips taut against his growing desire.

"Lee... We can't right now, they're expecting us upstairs for dinner." His lips meet your neck, kissing across your pulse and to your ear. Hands gliding over your skin as he pulls back from your neck.

"Why would I go do that when I got my favorite meal right here?" You laugh, the noise sounding like music to his ears all over again. Eyes turning to that loving stare, laying you down against the plush sheets and linens.

"Plus, you hurt your ankle. You need bed rest... And maybe I could give you a real reason to limp."